As he raised his face, moved perhaps by that sense of a watchful presence to which all of us are more or less susceptible, they were both surprised to see tears on it.

The next instant he had started to his feet and the bit of harness had rattled from his hands to the floor.
"Who are you ?" he asked, with a touch of anger, quite natural under the circumstances.

"Can't you come in by the door, and not creep sneaking up to take a man at disadvantage ?" As he spoke, he dashed away the tears with which his cheeks were still wet.
"I thought a heap of my young mistress," he added, in evident apology for this display of what such men call weakness.

"I didn't know that it was in me to cry for anything, but I find that I can cry for her." Hexford left his window, and Sweetwater slid from his; next minute they met at the stable door.
"Had luck ?" whispered the local officer.
"Enough to bring me here," acknowledged the other.
"Do you mean to this house or to this stable ?" "To this stable." "Have you heard that the horse was out that night ?" "Yes, she was out." "Who driving ?" "Ah, that's the question!" "This man can't tell you." A jerk of Hexford's thumb in Zadok's direction emphasised this statement.
"But I'm going to talk to him, for all that." "He wasn't here that night; he was at a dance.

He only knows that the mare was out." "But I'm going to talk to him." "May I come in, too?
I'll not interrupt.