"Why yes. I understand he's rich as porcupine stew," said Mrs. Wilson. "What he wants to come here fer, stirrin' up trouble, is beyond all knowin'. Him an' that man Hinter—they've been trampin' all over the country examinin' the land, cricks an' everythin'. They met up with my man, Tom, on the road yesterday an' they stopped him. Scroggie told him any time he wanted to bore fer water he'd put in a rig an' Tom needn't pay a cent if he didn't get him a well.",
He started as though he was confronted by something totally different from the lady he expected to see. In truth Mr Lawrence had never seen Lucy Acton with her hair down. Always when they met her hair had been dressed in the prevailing mode, with a little fringing or shadowing of wisps on her fair brow and curls on the beautiful outlines of her shoulders. Whether her hair had become disengaged from its fastenings in the night, or whether the deck mattress had done half and she with her fingers had let fall the rest, matters not; she was before him, clothed all about her back and breast with her abundance of soft dark hair.,
He was a man of rough appearance whose hand had been in the tar-bucket for most of his life—a hard, reserved man, shy, so ignorant that he read with difficulty, and wrote his name as painfully as a hand tortured with gout inscribes with the pen..
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