THE WINDOW[%]“Is that Santa Sofia?" “What’s that?”Is that the GoldenHorn?” VW: Lassoed with line indicating point of insertion. —peter.shillingsburgSoNancy asked, when Minta took her hand, "Whatis it that she wants? Is it that?" And whatwas that? Here and there emerged from themist (as Nancy looked down upon life spreadbeneath her) a pinnacle, a dome; prominentthings, without names. But when Minta droppedher hand, as she did when they ran down the hill-side, all that, the dome, the pinnacle, whateverit was that had protruded through the mist, sankdown into it and disappeared.

Minta, Andrew observed, was rather a goodwalker. She wore more sensible clothes than mostwomen. She wore very short skirts and blackknickerbockers. She would jump straight intoa stream and flounder across. He liked her rash-ness, but he saw that it would not do—she wouldkill herself in some idiotic way one of these days.She seemed to be afraid of nothing—except bulls.At the mere sight of a bull in a field she wouldthrow up her arms and fly screaming, which wasthe very thing to enrage a bull of course. But shedid not mind owning up to it in the least; onemust admit that. She knew she was an awfulcoward about bulls, she said. She thought shemust have been tossed in her perambulator whenshe was a baby. She didn’t seem to mind whatshe said or did. Suddenly now she pitched down117
Resize Images  

Select Pane

Berg Materials

View Pane