There were shadows under his eyes. Since the discovery of them, she had been madly eager to read these typewritten tales. The idea of leaving for Mexico had become unbearable, as he was so easy to like and perhaps even easier to love. Yes, of course. The winters were terrible in cold climates, and she often had been driven to dig herself large underground pits where she waited it out like a mole in the cold months. This was his humiliation as well as hers. The man pulled up his horse grumbling, and turned round. She had asked to borrow his pencil out of dire necessity. Miss Stanley reflected on this proposal for a moment. "Do you know what you make me think of?" "What?" "As if you had stepped out of some old family album. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers.
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