Explore "The Furnace of Gold" by Philip Verrill Mighels on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
He started ahead as he had before, with that show of utter unconcern towards the girl that was absolutely new to her experience. Her eyes were wide with appeal as she watched him striding up the trail. For herself she wanted nothing; but her womanly nature craved some trifling sign, some word of assurance that the man was uninjured -- really safe again and whole -- after that terrible plunge. But this from the horseman was impossible. He had not even thanked her for the rescue.
"You horrid, handsome wretch! " she murmured vexedly, stimulated to renewed activity by her resentment; then she followed along the narrow way.