Stump electronic books

He saw the
basket in her hands, and thrilled in anticipation of the favours her
warmed heart might prompt her to bestow upon him.
In the mists of early morning the pink orchids surrounded by rosemary and
ladies' tresses had glowed and gleamed from the top of a silvery moss
mound four feet deep, under a big tamarack in a swamp, through the bog of
which the squaw plunged to her knees at each step to uproot them. In the
evening glow of electricity, snapped from their stems, the beautiful
basket untouched, the moccasins lay on the breast of a woman of fashion,
while with every second of contact with the warmth of her body, they
drooped lower, until clasped in the arms of her lover, they were quite
crushed, then flung from an automobile to be ground to pulp by passing
wheels.
The slippers had a happier fate. Douglas Bruce carried them reverently. He
was sure he knew the swamp in which they grew. As he went his way, he held
the basket, velvet-white, in strong hands, swaying his body with the
motion of the car lest one leaf be damaged.


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