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Anderson, Sherwood, 1876-1941

"Poor White"

She became angry and threw several garments on the
floor. "Damn!" she said explosively, and went out of the room.
Hugh sprang to his feet. The wine he had drunk had not taken effect and
Steve Hunter had been forced to go home disappointed. All the evening
something stronger than wine had been gripping him. Now he knew what it
was. All through the evening thoughts and desires had whirled through his
brain. Now they were all gone. "I won't let her do it," he muttered, and
running quickly to the door closed it softly. With the shoes still held
in his hand he crawled through a window. He had expected to leap into the
darkness, but by chance his stocking feet alighted on the roof of the farm
kitchen that extended out from the rear of the house. He ran quickly down
the roof and jumped, alighting in a clump of bushes that tore long
scratches on his cheeks.
For five minutes Hugh ran toward the town of Bidwell, then turned, and
climbing a fence, walked across a field. The shoes were still gripped
tightly in his hand and the field was stony, but he did not notice and was
unconscious of pain from his bruised feet or from the torn places on his
cheeks. Standing in the field he heard Jim Priest drive homeward along the
road.
"My bonny lies over the ocean,
My bonny lies over the sea,
My bonny lies over the ocean,
O, bring back my bonny to me."
sang the farm hand.


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