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Burt, Katharine Newlin, 1882-1977

"Snow-Blind"

We'll have to wait
for the light. My God! How cold and wet and trembling you are." He
threw down his pack, took off his coat, wet only on the outside, and
wrapped it closely about her. She felt that he parted branches for
her, and she knew that they were in a dry, still, scented place whose
walls stirred and breathed. She sank down beside him on the smooth
pine-needles and crept close. They were giddy, beaten and confused;
they felt each other's trembling warmth; for greater comfort she
tucked her hands under his arm. Her head dropped back against his
shoulder so that her breath fell on his cheek. He felt the silent
tears of her humiliation, hot and bitter and human after the cold,
impersonal wetness of rain. It was as though a hand drew them together
in the darkness; they moved numbly at the same instant, by the same
impulse; then with a sort of convulsion they were in each other's
arms. Cold, wet, tremulous, their lips met. The night became the
beating of a heart.


CHAPTER XIV

Hugh sat in his great carved chair, his hands laid out across the
bulky arms, his head bent forward a little so that his eyes
encompassed all the restless beauty of the fire.


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