"He can sit a bad horse with the next man, can't he?"
"He can."
"He's pretty slick through scrub, and isn't the last on the heels of a mob. I reckon many a girl wouldn't toss her head there."
"And Mr. King?"
"He knows how to talk to a girl; but it don't take his fat off him, do it? He's as old as Dad; but he's shook on me, and no error. He puffs terrible in the sun, but he comes as often as he can. He told me there would be something for me in a coach or two, but I said he could keep it. First I liked a bit of attention, it had been so dull; but now I can get as good elsewhere."
"Send him gently about his business, then, for I think loving is easier than unloving."
"There's not going to be any sending about business. He can come if he wants, and he can stay away. I know how to be not at home, and he can try his hand talking to Bluey, the dog. Now, don't start preaching, Mister. You can go on sucking that pipe. I'm not at the call of every feller of fifty who gets shook on me."
"Your own troubles will come one day, Molly, and you will grow a little kinder because of them. The new boot is poor company for the foot, and the heart grows softer with a bit of wear and tear. And so you are ready to punish two men, and all their crime was looking overlong into your eyes. Are only your glances kind, Molly? Have the suns of twenty summers baked your little heart? Haven't you a memory or two of sorrow stored away to make you softer now? No, don't pout."
"Mr. Power, you seem uncommon interested in other people. I don't see call for you to worry what I do. I reckon my comings and goings aren't your concern. Mister, you can hear well from where you are. It's time you took a hand at fishing."