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Jeff Briggs's Love Story by Bret Harte
page 29 of 103 (28%)
ennuye, welcome Jeff's presence with a smile; to make Jeff, otherwise
anxious, eager, and keenly attentive, mute and silent in her presence.
Two symptoms bad for Jeff.

Meantime Mr. Mayfield's small conventional spirit pined for fellowship,
only to be found in larger civilizations, and sought, under plea of
business, a visit to Sacramento, where a few of the Mayfield type, still
surviving, were to be found.

This was a relief to Jeff, who only through his regard for the daughter,
was kept from open quarrel with the father. He fancied Miss Mayfield
felt relieved too, although Jeff had noticed that Mayfield had deferred
to his daughter more often than his wife--over whom your conventional
small autocrat is always victorious. It takes the legal matrimonial
contract to properly develop the first-class tyrant, male or female.

On one of these days Jeff was returning through the woods from marketing
at the Forks, which, since the sale of Rabbit, had became a foot-sore
and tedious business. He had reached the edge of the forest, and through
the wider-spaced trees, the bleak sunlit plateau of his house was
beginning to open out, when he stopped instantly. I know not what Jeff
had been thinking of, as he trudged along, but here, all at once, he was
thrilled and possessed with the odor of some faint, foreign perfume. He
flushed a little at first, and then turned pale. Now the woods were as
full of as delicate, as subtle, as grateful, and, I wot, far healthier
and purer odors than this; but this represented to Jeff the physical
contiguity of Miss Mayfield, who had the knack--peculiar to some of her
sex--of selecting a perfume that ideally identified her. Jeff looked
around cautiously; at the foot of a tree hard by lay one of her wraps,
still redolent of her. Jeff put down the bag which, in lieu of a market
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