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Buck, Charles Neville, 1879-1930

"A Pagan of the Hills"


"I hed hit in head ter ask ye a question," she announced, slowly, "but
I've done decided not ter do hit. This thread hain't suited ter ther
job. I'll git me another spool."
She rose from her chair, and dismayed at the astonishing swiftness of
her changed mood, Halloway took an impulsive step toward her. His arms
were still receptively outstretched, but suddenly he felt that attitude
to have become absurd. An altered light shone in her eyes now, and it
was unpleasantly suggestive of contempt. She turned, absent-mindedly
carrying the coat, and went into the other room.
What had happened, wondered the man. Something portentous had been
born and matured in a breathing space--but what it was he could not
guess. He knew only that victory had been between his open fingers and
had slipped away. In this new and hardened mood of Alexander's, he
might as well talk passionate love to the Sphinx.
But that was Alexander, he reflected. The tempestuous change from sun
to storm was the capricious climate of her nature. She had been close
to surrender and had wrested her independence out of his closing grasp
by pure will-power.


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