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Schreiner, Olive, 1855-1920

"The Story of an African Farm, a novel"

I don't like her at all, Jemima, and I don't
think you would. She's got such queer ways; she's always driving about in
a gig with that low German; and I don't think it's at all the thing for a
woman to be going about with a man she's not engaged to. Do you? If it
was me now, of course, who am a kind of connection, it would be different.
The way she treats me, considering that I am so soon to be her cousin, is
not at all nice. I took down my album the other day with your likenesses
in it, and I told her she could look at it, and put it down close to her;
but she just said, Thank you, and never even touched it, as much as to say-
-What are your relations to me?
"She gets the wildest horses in that buggy, and a horrid snappish little
cur belonging to the German sitting in front, and then she drives out
alone. I don't think it's at all proper for a woman to drive out alone; I
wouldn't allow it if she was my sister. The other morning, I don't know
how it happened, I was going in the way from which she was coming, and that
little beast--they call him Doss--began to bark when he saw me--he always
does, the little wretch--and the horses began to spring, and kicked the
splashboard all to pieces. It was a sight to see Jemima! She has got the
littlest hands I ever saw--I could hold them both in one of mine, and not
know that I'd got anything except that they were so soft; but she held
those horses in as though they were made of iron.


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