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Bindloss, Harold, 1866-1945

"Winston of the Prairie"


"Madam," he said, "I shall know whom to come to when I want a friend."
Afterwards he drifted towards a group of married farmers and their
wives, who, except for that open warranty, might have been less cordial
to him, and presently, though he was never quite sure how it came
about, found himself standing beside Maud Barrington. She smiled at
him, and then glanced towards one the open windows, outside which one
or two of the older men were sitting.
"The room is very hot," said Winston tentatively.
"Yes," said the girl. "I fancy it would be cooler in the hall."
They passed out together into the shadowy hall, but a little gleam of
light from the doorway behind them rested on Maud Barrington as she sat
down. She looked inquiringly at the man as though in wait for
something.
"It is distinctly cooler here," he said.
Maud Barrington laughed impatiently. "It is," she said.
"Well," said Winston, with a little smile, "I will try again. Wheat
has made another advance lately."
The girl turned towards him with a little sparkle in her eyes. Winston
saw it, and the faint shimmer of the pearls upon the whiteness of her
neck, and then moved his head so that he looked out upon the dusky
prairie.
"Pshaw!" she said. "You know why you were brought here to-night."
Winston admired her courage, but did not turn round, for there were
times when he feared his will might fail him. "I fancy I know why your
aunt was so gracious to me.


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