unriz'nable

Updated: May 16, 2025

"I suppose," he sighed, "I am unriz'nable; I would have the snow not so col' for jus' me." She did not answer. "Turn to me," he said. The fragrance of the fields came to them, and from the distance the faint, clear note of a hunting-horn. "Turn to me." The lovely head was bent very low. Her little gloved hand lay upon the narrow window ledge. He laid his own gently upon it.

Booth Tarkington - Monsieur Beaucaire