It vaguely tormented Carley, yet was not
uncomfortable. She went out upon the porch. The small alcove space held a
bed and a rustic chair. Above her the peeled poles of the roof descended to
within a few feet of her head. She had to lean over the rail of the porch
to look up. The green and red rock wall sheered ponderously near. The
waterfall showed first at the notch of a fissure, where the cliff split;
and down over smooth places the water gleamed, to narrow in a crack with
little drops, and suddenly to leap into a thin white sheet.
Out from the porch the view was restricted to glimpses between the pines,
and beyond to the opposite wall of the canyon. How shut-in, how walled in
this home!
"In summer it might be good to spend a couple of weeks here," soliloquized
Carley. "But to live here? Heavens! A person might as well be buried."
Heavy footsteps upon the porch below accompanied by a man's voice quickened
Carley's pulse. Did they belong to Glenn? After a strained second she
decided not. Nevertheless, the acceleration of her blood and an unwonted
glow of excitement, long a stranger to her, persisted as she left the porch
and entered the boarded hall. How gray and barn-like this upper part of the
house! From the head of the stairway, however, the big living room
presented a cheerful contrast.
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