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Bindloss, Harold, 1866-1945

"Winston of the Prairie"


The two who knew and loved the prairie could pick out each one of them.
Nor did it seem that there was any need of speech on such a night, but
at last Winston turned with a little smile to his companion, as he
checked the horses on the slope of a billowy rise.
"One feels diffident about intruding on this great quietness," he said.
"Still, I fancy you had a purpose in asking me to drive you home."
"Yes," said the girl, with a curious gentleness. "In the first place,
though I know it isn't necessary with you, I want to thank you. I made
Dane tell me, and you have done all I wished--splendidly."
Winston laughed. "Well, you see, it naturally came easy to me."
Maud Barrington noticed the trace of grimness in his voice. "Please
try to overlook our unkindness," she said. "Is it really needful to
keep reminding me? And how was I to know what you were, when I had
only heard that wicked story?"
Winston felt a little thrill run through him, for which reason he
looked straight in front of him and shifted his grasp on the reins.
Disdainful and imperious as she was at times, he knew there was a
wealth of softer qualities in his companion now. Her daintiness in
thought and person, and honesty of purpose, appealed to him, while that
night her mere physical presence had an effect that was almost
bewildering. For a moment he wondered vaguely how far a man might dare
to go, with what fate had thrust upon him, and then with a little
shiver saw once more the barrier of deceit and imposture.


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