Explore "Philip Steel of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police" by James Oliver Curwood on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In that moment of terrible shock -- in the one moment when it seemed to him as though no other woman in the world could have worn that golden tress of hair but Isobel, Philip had stopped his horse, and his face had gone as white as death. With a tremendous effort he recovered himself, and saw Billinger staring at him as though the hot sun had for an instant blinded him of reason. But the lock of hair still rippled and shone before his eyes. Only twice in his life could he remember having seen hair just like this -- that peculiar reddish gold that changed its lights with every passing cloud.
He had seen it on Isobel, in the firelight of the camp, at Lac Bain -- and he had seen it crowning the beautiful head of the girl back home, the girl of the hyacinth letter. He struggled to calm himself under the questioning gaze of Billinger's eyes. He laughed, wound the hair carefully about his fingers, and put it in his coat pocket.