Collie tried to laugh, but the effort was not very successful.
Tenderly she bathed his bruised face. Her nearness, her touch, made him forget the pain. Suddenly he seized her hand and kissed it, leaving a stain of blood where his lips had touched. She was thrilled with a mingled feeling of pride and shame—pride in that he had fought because of her, as she knew well enough, and shame at the brutality of the affair which she understood as clearly as though she had witnessed it. She was too honest to make herself believe she was not flattered, in a way, but she made Collie think otherwise.
He evaded her direct questioning stubbornly. Finally she asked whether Mr. Tenlow "had taken a fall," or not.
"Sure he did!" replied Collie. "A couple or three years ago—tryin' to outride Overland Red. Don't you remember?"
"Collie, you're a regular hypocrite."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And you look—frightful."
"Yes, ma'am."
"You're not a bit ashamed."
"Yes, ma'am, I am."