Or if Mills fantastically personified the timber as something which
stood between him and his aching desire and so attacked it with all
his lusty young strength.
Sometimes Hollister sat by, covertly watching Mills and Myra. He could
make nothing of Myra. She was courteous, companionable, nothing more.
But to Hollister Mills' trouble was plain enough. The man was on his
guard, as if he knew betrayal lurked in the glance of his eye, in the
quality of his tone. Hollister gauged the depths of Mills' feelings by
the smoldering fire in his glance,--that glow in Mills' dark eyes when
they rested too long on Myra. There would be open upon his face a look
of hopelessness, as if he dwelt on something that fascinated and
baffled him.
Sometimes, latterly, he saw a hint of that same dubious expression
about Archie Lawanne. But there was a different temper in Lawanne, a
flash of the sardonic at times.
In July, however, Lawanne went away.
"I'm coming back, though," he told Hollister before he left. "I think
I shall put up a cabin and winter here.
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