Here was an adventure from the gods--a stubborn will to bend, the
pride of a haughty young beauty to trail in the dust, her untamed
heart to break if need be. The lust of the battle was on him
already. She was a woman to dream about,
"Sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath,"
he told himself exultantly as he slid from his horse and stood
bowing before her.
And he, for his part, was a taking enough picture of
devil-may-care gallantry gone to seed. The touch of jaunty
impudence in his humility, not less than the daring admiration of
his handsome eyes and the easy, sinuous grace of his flexed
muscles, labeled him what he was--a man bold and capable to do
what he willed, and a villain every inch of him.
Said she, after that first clash of stormy eyes with bold,
admiring ones:
"I am lost--from the Lazy D ranch."
"Why, no, you're found," he corrected, white teeth flashing in a
smile.
"My motor ran out of gasolene this afternoon. I've been"--there
was a catch in her voice--"wandering ever since."
"You're played out, of course, and y'u've had no supper," he
said, his quiet close gaze on her.
"Yes, I'm played out and my nerve's gone.
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