There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women. She sat very still, and his eyes rested on that ornament for a moment, and then travelled slowly to her wrist and the soft lines of her forearm. Guided by the glare of the forge, which threw a stream of ruddy light across the road, Jack soon found the place of which he was in search. Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. He and her father shook hands manfully.
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