” She stopped, and then suggested: “I wonder—I should love—if it was anything I said. And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. Best assured of that. So long. You tell me he didn't like the stuff. He made some obvious comments on the wide view warming toward its autumnal blaze that spread itself in hill and valley, wood and village, below. ’ She tossed her head. How are you?” “I’m fine,” she said, unaware of all events except for the voice on the other line. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it.
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