"I don't see it. What she did was more embarrassing for her than what I did for Kitty. At least it would have been mightily so if she hadn't used her good hawss sense and forgot that she was a lone young female and I was a man. That's what I did the other night. Just because there are seven or eight million human beings here the obligation to look out for Kitty was no less."
"New York isn't Arizona."
"You bet it ain't. We don't sit roostin' on a fence when folks need our help out there. We go to it."
"You can't do that sort of thing here. People talk."
"Sure, and hens cackle. Let 'em!"
"There are some things men don't understand," she told him with an acid little smile of superiority. "When a girl cries a little they think she's heartbroken. Very likely she's laughing at them up her sleeve. This girl's making a fool of you, if you want the straight truth."
"I don't think so."
His voice was so quietly confident it nettled her.
"I suppose, then, you think I'm ungenerous," she charged.
The deep-set gray-blue eyes looked at her steadily. There was a wise little smile in them.