Anyway, I didn't think of anything to say that would be either witty or squelching, and could only relight my cigarette and look the fool I felt.

He'd caught me right in the solar plexus, and we both knew it, and there was nothing to say.

So after awhile we commenced talking about a new bunch of horses that dad had bought through an agent, and that had to be saddle-broke that summer, and I kept my eyes away from White Divide and my mind from all it meant to me.
The old ranch did look good to me, and Perry Potter actually shook hands; if you knew him as well as I do you'd realize better what such a demonstration means, coming from a fellow like him.

Why, even his lips are always shut with a drawstring--from the looks--to keep any words but what are actually necessary from coming out.

His eyes have the same look, kind of pulled in at the corners.