Frankly he had told Joanne that
she interested him more just now than his book. Again he repeated to
himself that it had not been a surrender--but an obliteration. With a pair
of lovely eyes looking quietly into him, he had wiped the slate clean of
the things he had preached for ten years and the laws he had made for
himself. And as he came in sight of the big Otto tent, he found himself
smiling, his breath coming quickly, strange voices singing within him.
He stopped to load and light his pipe before he faced Mrs. Otto, and he
clouded himself in as much smoke as possible while he explained to her
that he had almost forced Joanne to stop at his cabin and eat partridges
with him. He learned that the Tete Jaune train could not go on until the
next day, and after Mrs. Otto had made him take a loaf of fresh bread and a
can of home-made marmalade as a contribution to their feast, he turned back
toward the cabin, trying to whistle in his old careless way.
The questions he had first asked himself about Joanne forced themselves
back upon him now with deeper import. Almost unconsciously he had revealed
himself to her.
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