Big Timber - A Story of the Northwest by Bertrand W. Sinclair
page 34 of 301 (11%)
page 34 of 301 (11%)
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refuse, chips, scraps, all the refuse of the camp was scattered there in
unlovely array. But that made no more than a passing impression upon her. She was thinking, as she removed her hat and gloves, of what queer angles come now and then to the human mind. She wondered why she should be sufficiently interested in her brother's hired men to drive off a compelling attack of the blues in consideration of them as men. Nevertheless, she found herself unable to view them as she had viewed, say, the clerks in her father's office. She began to brush her hair and to wonder what sort of food would be served for supper. CHAPTER IV A FORETASTE OF THINGS TO COME Half an hour later she sat down with her brother at one end of a table that was but a long bench covered with oilcloth. Chairs there were none. A narrow movable bench on each side of the fixed table furnished seating capacity for twenty men, provided none objected to an occasional nudging from his neighbor's elbow. The dishes, different from any she had ever eaten from, were of enormously thick porcelain, dead white, variously chipped and cracked with fine seams. But the food, if plain, was of excellent quality, tastily cooked. She discovered herself with an |
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