Explore "Diverging Roads" by Rose Wilder Lane on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The shortcake was a triumph when she set it, steaming hot and oozing amber juice, on the table between them. "You certainly are a wonder, Helen! " Paul said, struck by its crumbling perfection. "Here we haven't been in the house an hour, and with a simple twist of the wrist you give a fellow a dinner like this! Lucky we aren't living a couple of centuries ago. You'd been burned for a witch. " His eyes, resting on her, were filled with warm light.
Already he seemed to irradiate a glow of contentment; the hint of sternness in his face had melted in a joy that was almost boyish, and all day there had been a touch of possessive pride in his contemplation of her. It intoxicated her; she felt the exhilaration of victory in her submission to it, and a sense of her power over him gave sparkle to her delight in his nearness.