Out of Context

The Desert of Wheat
Zane Grey

“Me too, though I ain’t no youngster,” he replied. “Reckon you’d better go in now, Miss Lenore….Don’t you worry none or lose any sleep.”

Lenore bade the cowboy good-night and went to the sitting-room. Her mother sat preoccupied, with sad and thoughtful face. Rose was writing many pages to Jim. Kathleen sat at the table, surreptitiously eating while she was pretending to read.

“My, but you look funny, Lenorry!” she cried.

“Why don’t you laugh, then?” retorted Lenore.

“You’re white. Your eyes are big and purple. You look like a starved cannibal….If that’s what it’s like to be in love–excuse me–I’ll never fall for any man!”

“You ought to be in bed. Mother I recommend the baby of the family be sent up-stairs.”

“Yes, child, it’s long past your bedtime,” said Mrs. Anderson.

“Aw, no!” wailed Kathleen.

“Yes,” ordered her mother.

“But you’d never thought of it–if Lenorry hadn’t so,” replied Kathleen.