The impropriety probably lay in the sensations roused by this
visit and this visitor. "I intended--"
"Oh, we must try to get along without monsieur," he said, with a little
cough; "he's a busy gentleman." The rather rude and flippant sentiment
seemed hardly in keeping with the fatal token of his disease.
"Of course, he's far away out there in the field, mowing," she said, as
if in apology for something or other. "Yes, he's ever so far away," was
his reply, as he turned half lazily to the open doorway.
Neither spoke for a moment. The eyes of both were on the distant
harvest-fields. Vaguely, not decisively, the hazy, indolent air of
summer was broken by the lazy droning of the locusts and grasshoppers.
A driver was calling to his oxen down the dusty road, the warning bark
of a dog came across the fields from the gap in the fence which he was
tending, and the blades of tho scythes made three-quarter circles of
light as the mowers travelled down the wheat-fields.
When their eyes met again, the glasses of cordial were at their lips.
He held her look by the intentional warmth and meaning of his own,
drinking very slowly to the last drop; and then, like a bon viveur, drew
a breath of air through his open mouth, and nodded his satisfaction.
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