"
He filled his glass, drained it quickly, and with an effort recovered
his temper.
"Yes, I'd better go," he repeated, and knew while he spoke that he could
not leave as long as the thought of Blossom tormented him. Swift half
visions of her loveliness--of certain delectable details of her face
or figure flitted always before him. He saw her eyes, like frosted
periwinkles under their warm white lids, which appeared too heavy
to open wide; the little brown mole that played up and down when she
laughed; and the soft, babyish creases that encircled her throat. Each
of these memories set his heart to a quicker beating and caused a warm
sensation, like the caress of a burning sun, to pass over his body.
"The Revercombs over at the mill are kicking up a row, mother," he said
suddenly, again filling his wine glass and again putting it down empty,
"have they any sort of standing in the county, do you suppose?"
"I've heard they call themselves connections of the Revercombs higher in
the State, dear--but I don't know and I've never come into contact with
any of the country people about here. Kesiah may be able to tell you.
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