Explore "Dick's Desertion" by Marjorie Pickthall on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Next morning the year had grown perceptibly older; or so it seemed to / Stephanie, as she stood in the doorway of the log-cabin, looking across / the misty clearing to the golden forests that encircled it. The fallen / leaves looked browner, each furred at the edge with a delicate fringe / of hoar-frost; and the newly risen sun strove as yet in vain to send / some heat through the faint, cold haze. It was more penetratingly / chill than if it had been the drier winter time. Stephanie snuggled / into her little gray shawl with a keen appreciation of its rough / warmth, and watched her breath floating as tiny silver clouds in the / almost motionless air.
She was a tall, strong girl, with an unexpectedly plaintive face -- a / quaint, dark-eyed face which suited well with her quaint foreign name. / Already she looked older than Dick, for her eyes were grave, and her / mouth had taken a firm, responsible curve; it was a look which comes / sometimes to motherless girls who have men-folk to manage and care for.