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Buck, Charles Neville, 1879-1930

"A Pagan of the Hills"

It was a motive that had to do with her activities
that day when she had gone to the nearby town.
Halloway remained there, frankly puzzled. Unless she was like himself
acting, her interest in his arrival was pallid and lukewarm. He had
counted much on appearing suddenly before her at his best--and the
impression seemed to have been negligible.
Where had she gone? He asked himself that question several times
during the considerable interval of his waiting. The sunset was coming
to its final splendor behind mountains that were ash of violet.
Through the blossom-laden air stole a seductive intoxication that
mounted to his head. The voices of the Red Gods had mastered him, and
he had come.
Then he saw a vision in the doorway, and his senses reeled.
Alexander stood there as he had never seen her before. She was in a
woman's dress, very simple of line and unadorned. But her beauty was
such as could support and glorify simplicity. Indeed it required
simplicity as a foil for its own delicate gorgeousness. The lithe
slenderness of her figure was enhanced by the transformation.


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