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Susy, a story of the Plains by Bret Harte
page 26 of 175 (14%)
calico temptingly displayed on the seat. The mystification and curiosity
of the young girl grew more intense at these proceedings. It looked
like the ordinary exhibition of a traveling peddler, but the gloomy
and embattled appearance of the man himself scouted so peaceful and
commonplace a suggestion. Under the pretense of chasing away a marauding
hen, she sallied out upon the waste near the wagon. It then became
evident that the traveler had seen her, and was not averse to her
interest in his movements, although he had not changed his attitude of
savage retrospection. An occasional ejaculation of suppressed passion,
as if the memory of some past conflict was too much for him, escaped him
even in this peaceful occupation. As this possibly caused the young girl
to still hover timidly in the distance, he suddenly entered the
wagon and reappeared carrying a tin bucket, with which he somewhat
ostentatiously crossed her path, his eyes darkly wandering as if seeking
something.

"If you're lookin' for the spring, it's a spell furder on--by the
willows."

It was a pleasant voice, the teamster thought, albeit with a dry, crisp,
New England accent unfamiliar to his ears. He looked into the depths
of an unlovely blue-check sunbonnet, and saw certain small, irregular
features and a sallow check, lit up by a pair of perfectly innocent,
trustful, and wondering brown eyes. Their timid possessor seemed to be a
girl of seventeen, whose figure, although apparently clad in one of her
mother's gowns, was still undeveloped and repressed by rustic hardship
and innutrition. As her eyes met his she saw that the face of this
gloomy stranger was still youthful, by no means implacable, and, even at
that moment, was actually suffused by a brick-colored blush! In matters
of mere intuition, the sex, even in its most rustic phase, is still our
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