The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. I can't bear it. “Dear me, what a relief! If I had had any nerves that man would have trampled upon them long ago. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. It was as much as I could do to prevent him flying out of the house there and then and coming after you. " With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break.
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