After a few minutes, in which, so inexpressible was her happiness
that she could only pass her hand through his hair and cling to
him, he broke out again.

"I'll tell you what you remind me of. Did you ever see a
thoroughbred mare, all shinin' in the sun, with hair like satin
an' skin so thin an' tender that the least touch of the whip
leaves a mark--all fine nerves, an' delicate an' sensitive,
that'll kill the toughest bronco when it comes to endurance an'
that can strain a tendon in a flash or catch death-of-cold
without a blanket for a night? I wanta tell you they ain't many
beautifuler sights in this world. An' they're that fine-strung,
an' sensitive, an' delicate. You gotta handle 'em right-side up,
glass, with care. Well, that's what you remind me of. And I'm
goin' to make it my job to see you get handled an' gentled in the
same way. You're as different from other women as that kind of a
mare is from scrub work-horse mares. You're a thoroughbred.
You're clean-cut an' spirited, an' your lines . . .

"Say, d'ye know you've got some figure? Well, you have. Talk
about Annette Kellerman. You can give her cards and spades. She's
Australian, an' you're American, only your figure ain't. You're
different. You're nifty--I don't know how to explain it. Other
women ain't built like you. You belong in some other country.
You're Frenchy, that's what. You're built like a French woman an'
more than that--the way you walk, move, stand up or sit down, or
don't do anything."

And he, who had never been out of California, or, for that