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Updated: June 16, 2025
Jack suddenly raised his hands from Firio's shoulders in a gesture of interruption. It was not exactly Firio's place to hazard opinions about Mary Ewold. "Never mind!" he said, rather sharply. But Firio proceeded fixedly to finish what he had to say. "She has a big sadness, which makes her ride to the pass. She rides out so she can ride back smiling."
"Yes, Mister Prather," he added, when, after toiling painfully on his belly for the few feet he had to go, Prather lay with his stark face near Firio's; a face strangely like that of John Wingfield, Sr. when he saw Jasper Ewold from the drawing-room doorway. "For your life, Mister Prather! Sí! Up a little more! Chin high as mine, so! Eye on sight, so!"
As for Firio, he strode into Jack's presence with the air of conqueror, sage, and prophet in one. "Is it really you, Firio? Come here, so that I can feel of you and make sure, you son of the sun!" Jack put out his thin, white hand to Firio, and the velvet of Firio's eyes was very soft, indeed. "Did you know when they brought you in?" Jack asked.
"And, Firio " Jack's hand slipped with a quick, gripping caress onto Firio's shoulder. An inspiration had come to the mind of action, just as a line comes to a poet in a flash; as one must have come to the ancestor many times after he had gone into a tight place trusting to his wits and his blade to bring him out.
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