She came to a man
who was boiling a kettle over a camp-fire, and slipped lithely from
the horse, and the man, with a start of surprise, seized her pretty
waist and kissed her passionately, in the midst of the immense
forest whose every leaf was moving. And she returned his kiss without
restraint. For they were betrothed. And Rachel imagined the free
life of distant forests, where love was, and where slim girls rode
mettlesome horses more easily than the girls of the Five Towns
rode bicycles. She could not even ride a bicycle, had never had the
opportunity to learn. The vision of emotional pleasures that in
her narrow existence she had not dreamed of filled her with mild,
delightful sorrow. She could conceive nothing more heavenly than to
embrace one's true love in the recesses of a forest.... Then came
crouching Indians.... And then she heard Louis Fores behind her. She
had not meant to turn round, but when a hand was put heavily on her
shoulder she turned quickly, resenting the contact.
"I should like a word with ye, if ye can spare a minute, young miss,"
whispered a voice as heavy as the hand. It was old Thomas Batchgrew's
face and whiskers that she was looking up at in the gloom.
As if fascinated, she followed in terror those flaunting whiskers up
the slope of the narrow isle to the back of the auditorium.
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