Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy
page 8 of 550 (01%)
page 8 of 550 (01%)
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Oak looked from one to the other of the disputants,
and fell into a reverie. There was something in the tone of twopence remarkably insignificant. Threepence had a definite value as money -- it was an appreciable infringement on a day's wages, and, as such, a higgling matter; but twopence -- " Here." he said, stepping forward and handing twopence to the gatekeeper; "let the young woman pass." He looked up at her then; she heard his words, and looked down. Gabriel's features adhered throughout their form so exactly to the middle line between the beauty of St. John and the ugliness of Judas Iscariot, as represented in a window of the church he attended, that not a single lineament could be selected and called worthy either of distinction or notoriety. The redjacketed and dark- haired maiden seemed to think so too, for she carelessly glanced over him, and told her man to drive on. She might have looked her thanks to Gabriel on a minute scale, but she did not speak them; more probably she felt none, for in gaining her a passage he had lost her her point, and we know how women take a favour of that kind. The gatekeeper surveyed the retreating vehicle. "That's a handsome maid" he said to Oak "But she has her faults." said Gabriel. "True, farmer." "And the greatest of them is -- well, what it is always." "Beating people down? ay, 'tis so." "O no." |
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