Prev | Current Page 234 | Next

London, Jack, 1876-1916

"The God of His Fathers: Tales of the Klondyke"

As she leaned her head on her hand, a fleeting vision of
her own girlhood, with its mournful climacteric and tragic ebb, was
vouchsafed her, and for the moment she was minded to read him a lesson
from it. God! it must be less than human brute who could not be held by
such a tale, told as she could tell it, but--bah! He was not worth it,
nor worth the pain to her. The candle was positioned just right, and
even as she thought of these things sacredly shameful to her, he was
pleasuring in the transparent pinkiness of her ear. She noted his eye,
took the cue, and turned her head till the clean profile of the face was
presented. Not the least was that profile among her virtues. She could
not help the lines upon which she had been builded, and they were very
good; but she had long since learned those lines, and though little they
needed, was not above advantaging them to the best of her ability. The
candle began to flicker. She could not do anything ungracefully, but
that did not prevent her improving upon nature a bit, when she reached
forth and deftly snuffed the red wick from the midst of the yellow flame.


Pages:
222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246