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Fox, John, 1863-1919

"The Trail of the Lonesome Pine"


"Have you seen Mr. Hale?"
"No'm. Mr. Hale ain't been here for mos' six months. I reckon he
aint in this country now. I aint heard nothin' 'bout him for a
long time."
June knew better than that--but she said nothing. She would rather
have had even Harvey think that he was away. So she hurried to the
hotel--she would have four hours to wait--and asked for the one
room that had a bath attached--the room to which Hale had sent her
when she had passed through on her way to New York. She almost
winced when she looked in the mirror and saw the smoke stains
about her pretty throat and ears, and she wondered if anybody
could have noticed them on her way from the train. Her hands, too,
were dreadful to look at and she hurried to take off her things.
In an hour she emerged freshened, immaculate from her crown of
lovely hair to her smartly booted feet, and at once she went
downstairs. She heard the man, whom she passed, stop at the head
of them and turn to look down at her, and she saw necks craned
within the hotel office when she passed the door. On the street
not a man and hardly a woman failed to look at her with wonder and
open admiration, for she was an apparition in that little town and
it all pleased her so much that she became flushed and conscious
and felt like a queen who, unknown, moved among her subjects and
blessed them just with her gracious presence.


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