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Burned Bridges by Bertrand W. Sinclair
page 47 of 290 (16%)
chair between the two of them and occupied himself a moment
exterminating a few mosquitoes which had followed him from the grassy
floor of the meadow and now slyly sought to find painful lodgment upon
his face and neck.

"To tell the truth," he said at last, "everything is so different from
my expectations that I find myself a bit uncertain. One
finds--well--certain drawbacks."

"Material or spiritual?" Carr inquired gravely.

The Reverend Thompson considered.

"Both," he answered briefly.

This was the most candid admission he had ever permitted himself. Carr
laughed quietly.

"Well," said he, "we are a primitive folk in a primitive region. But I
daresay you hope to accomplish a vast change for the better in us, if
not in the country?"

Again there was that suggestion of mockery, veiled, scarcely
perceptible, a matter of inflection. Mr. Thompson found himself uttering
an entirely unpremeditated reply.

"Which I daresay you doubt, Mr. Carr. You seem to be fully aware of my
mission here, and rather dubious as to its merit."

Carr smiled.
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