From the Hand of Dolorita
fer the right woman. Andy's doin' it naow. He's makin chairs fer it, 'n I help him when I kin. But I ain't never seed but one woman I 'lowed I'd like to make a home fer—an' thet's Her."
Miss Herrick changed her position restlessly. The situation touched her sympathies, but she was keenly conscious of its grotesque side. Before her mind's eye came a sudden vision of Dolorita as she had last seen her,—soft exquisite animal, in the luxurious lair she had made for herself. Costly lace enveloped her, diamonds flashed on her hair, throat, fingers, and bare arms—even from the buckles on the little shoes, which alone cost more money than Joseph Willis had ever seen. This indolent, sensuous Thais, the one woman in the world for whom he "’lowed" he'd build a cabin here in these lonely mountains!
Miss Herrick looked up into the young man's frank eyes. She was not a small woman, but they were far above her. The expression of perfect trust she saw in them moved her to answer him as simply and as directly as he had talked to her.
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