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Bonner, Geraldine, 1870-1930

"The Emigrant Trail"


"There!" flinging out the word with the rage of a disregarded prophet,
"a chill! I knew it!"
In a moment all the self-engrossment of her bashfulness was gone. Her
mind had turned on another subject with such speed and completeness
that David's kiss and her anger might have taken place in another world
in a previous age. Her faculties leaped to the sudden call like a
liberated spring, and her orders burst on Daddy John:
"In the back of the wagon, under the corn meal. It was moved when we
crossed the Big Blue. Take out the extra blankets and the medicine
chest. That's in the front corner, near my clothes, under the seat. A
chill--out here in the wilderness!"
David turned to soothe her:
"Don't be worried. A chill's natural enough after such a wetting."
She shot a quick, hard glance at him, and he felt ignominiously
repulsed. In its preoccupation her face had no recognition of him, not
only as a lover but as a human being. Her eyes, under low-drawn brows,
stared for a second into his with the unseeing intentness of inward
thought. Her struggles to avoid his kiss were not half so chilling.


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