"If the best nag ever foaled were to throw me in this unlucky spot, I'd blow his brains out. Yours?" The stranger hesitated. It was the last thing she felt like drinking. The strong potation he had taken, combined with fatigue and anxiety he had previously undergone, made him oversleep himself, and when he awoke it was just beginning to grow light. She did not understand the note of hostility to men that ran through it all, the bitter vindictiveness that lit Miss Miniver’s cheeks and eyes, the sense of some at last insupportable wrong slowly accumulated. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities.
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