[On the Frontier by Bret Harte]@TWC D-Link book
On the Frontier

CHAPTER IV
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He only looked down gently on her lowered lashes, and repeated his question if he should remain during the coming interview with Don Jose: "I must beg you to determine quickly," he added, "for I already hear him entering the gate." "Stay," said Mrs.Tucker, as the ringing of spurs and clatter of hoofs came from the corral.

"One moment." She looked up suddenly, and said, "How long had he known her ?" But before he could reply there was a step in the doorway, and the figure of Don Jose Santierra emerged from the archway.
He was a man slightly past middle age, fair and well shaven, wearing a black broadcloth serape, the deeply embroidered opening of which formed a collar of silver rays around his neck, while a row of silver buttons down the side seams of his riding trousers, and silver spurs, completed his singular equipment.

Mrs.Tucker's swift feminine glance took in these details, as well as the deep salutation, more formal than the exuberant frontier politeness she was accustomed to, with which he greeted her.

It was enough to arrest her first impulse to retreat.

She hesitated and stopped as Poindexter stepped forward, partly interposing between them, acknowledging Don Jose's distant recognition of himself with an ironical accession of his usual humorous tolerance.


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