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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Frontier Stories"

"
"I never thought,"--he began.
"You never thought. Aren't you a Christian?"
"I suppose so."
"He supposes so! Have you no convictions--no professions?"
"But, Nellie, I never thought that you"--"Never thought that I--what?
Do you think that I could ever be anything to a man who did not believe
in justification by faith, or in the covenant of church fellowship? Do
you think father would let me?"
In his eagerness to defend himself he stepped to her side. But seeing
her little feet shining through the dark water, like outcroppings of
delicately veined quartz, he stopped embarrassed. Miss Nellie, however,
leaped to one foot, and, shaking the other over the pool, put her hand
on his shoulder to steady herself. "You haven't got a towel--or," she
said dubiously, looking at her small handkerchief, "anything to dry
them on?"
But Low did not, as she perhaps expected, offer his own handkerchief.
"If you take a bath after our fashion," he said gravely, "you must
learn to dry yourself after our fashion."
Lifting her again lightly in his arms, he carried her a few steps to
the sunny opening, and bade her bury her feet in the dried mosses and
baked withered grasses that were bleaching in a hollow.


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