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Updated: May 23, 2025
He preferred that things should go forward without much idea of consequences; if consequences came, they would do so naturally enough, and of themselves; all that he positively knew was that Hilma occupied his thoughts morning, noon, and night; that he was happy when he was with her, and miserable when away from her. The Chinese cook served his supper in silence.
"I don't know." "Like what, Hilma?" he insisted. "Like like this?" she questioned. With a movement of infinite tenderness and affection she slid her arms around his neck, still crying a little.
But at the last second, he bungled, hesitated; Hilma shrank from him, supple as a young reed; Annixter clutched harshly at her arm, and trod his full weight upon one of her slender feet, his cheek and chin barely touching the delicate pink lobe of one of her ears, his lips brushing merely a fold of her shirt waist between neck and shoulder.
They dashed through the houses of the Home ranch. "Oh, oh," cried Hilma suddenly, "look, look there. Look what they have done." Vacca pulled the horses up, for the road in front of Annixter's house was blocked. A vast, confused heap of household effects was there chairs, sofas, pictures, fixtures, lamps.
"Well," exclaimed Annixter, "here you are at last. I've been watching that blamed house till I was afraid the policeman would move me on. By the Lord," he suddenly cried, "you're pale. You you, Hilma, do you feel well?" "Yes I am well," she faltered. "No, you're not," he declared. "I know better. You are coming back to Quien Sabe with me. This place don't agree with you.
Annixter, observant enough where his wife was concerned noted how the reflection of the white china set a glow of pale light underneath her chin. "Hilma," he said, "I've been wondering lately about things. We're so blamed happy ourselves it won't do for us to forget about other people who are down, will it? Might change our luck. And I'm just likely to forget that way, too. It's my nature."
I love you," he suddenly exclaimed; "I love you, and if you will forgive me, and if you will come down to such a beast as I am, I want to be to you the best a man can be to a woman, Hilma. Do you understand, little girl? I want to be your husband." Hilma looked at the goldfishes through her tears. "Have you got anything to say to me, Hilma?" he asked, after a while.
The excitement, the enchanting delight, the delicious disturbance of "the first ball," had produced its result. Perhaps there had only been this lacking. It was hard to say, but for that brief instant of time Annixter was looking at Hilma, the woman.
Underneath the Long Trestle where Broderson Creek cut the line of the railroad and the Upper Road, the ground was low and covered with a second growth of grey green willows. Along the borders of the creek were occasional marshy spots, and now and then Hilma Tree came here to gather water-cresses, which she made into salads.
First, it was Hilma Tree, as he had seen her in the dairy-house charming, delicious, radiant of youth, her thick, white neck with its pale amber shadows under the chin; her wide, open eyes rimmed with fine, black lashes; the deep swell of her breast and hips, the delicate, lustrous floss on her cheek, impalpable as the pollen of a flower.
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