There, that sounds frightfully involved, doesn’t it, but perhaps you can make out what I mean. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them. . Her linen gown was soft against the heavy skins. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. There was a strained, eager expression on his face. She never knew what became of her farmer after that. ” He was silent for some moments.
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