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Page 101

CHAPTER V - The Lake

river was widening, the banks were growing lower, down to the water's level, like shoals planted with willow-trees and with reeds. Above the willow-trees a square white sail was standing, as if erected on the land.
`Is the lake so near?' said Kate.
The man hastily mopped his running wet face.
`Yes, Senorita! The sailing-boats are waiting for the wind, to come into the river. We will pass by the canal.'
He indicated with a backward movement of the head a narrow, twisting passage of water between deep reeds. It made Kate think of the little river Anapo: the same mystery unbroken. The boatman, with creases half of sadness and half of exaltation in his bronze, still face, was pulling with all his might. Water-fowl went swimming into the reeds, or rose on wing and wheeled into the blue air. Some willow-trees hung a dripping, vivid green, in the stark dry country. The stream was narrow and winding. With a nonchalant motion, first of the right then of the left hand, Villiers was guiding the boatman, to keep him from running aground in the winding, narrow water-way.
And this put Villiers at his ease, to have something practical and slightly mechanical to do and to assert. He was striking the American note once more, of mechanical dominance.
All the other business had left him incomprehending, and when he asked Kate, she had pretended not to hear him. She sensed a certain delicate, tender mystery in the river, in the naked man in the water, in the boatman, and she could not bear to have it subjected to the tough American flippancy. She was weary to death of American automatism and American flippant toughness. It gave her a feeling of nausea.
'Quite a well-built fellow, that one who laid hold of the boat. What did he want, anyway?' Villiers insisted.
`Nothing!' said Kate.
They were slipping out past the clay-coloured, loose stony edges of the land, through a surge of ripples, into the wide white light of the lake. A breeze was coming from the east, out of the upright morning, and the surface of the shallow, flimsy, dun-coloured water was in motion. Shoal-water rustled near at hand. Out to the open, large, square white sails were stepping gingerly forward, and beyond the buff coloured, pale desert of

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE river was widening, what is banks were growing lower, down to what is water's level, like shoals planted with willow-trees and with reeds. Above what is willow-trees a square white sail was standing, as if erected on what is land. `Is what is lake so near?' said Kate. what is man hastily mopped his running wet face. `Yes, Senorita! what is sailing-boats are waiting for what is wind, to come into what is river. We will pass by what is canal.' He indicated with a backward movement of what is head a narrow, twisting passage of water between deep reeds. It made Kate think of what is little river Anapo: what is same mystery unbroken. what is boatman, with creases half of sadness and half of exaltation in his bronze, still face, was pulling with all his might. Water-fowl went swimming into what is reeds, or rose on wing and wheeled into what is blue air. Some willow-trees hung a dripping, vivid green, in what is stark dry country. what is stream was narrow and win where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" The Plumed Serpent (1926) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 101 where is strong CHAPTER V - what is Lake where is p align="justify" river was widening, what is banks were growing lower, down to what is water's level, like shoals planted with willow-trees and with reeds. Above what is willow-trees a square white sail was standing, as if erected on what is land. `Is what is lake so near?' said Kate. what is man hastily mopped his running wet face. `Yes, Senorita! what is sailing-boats are waiting for what is wind, to come into what is river. We will pass by what is canal.' He indicated with a backward movement of what is head a narrow, twisting passage of water between deep reeds. It made Kate think of the little river Anapo: what is same mystery unbroken. what is boatman, with creases half of sadness and half of exaltation in his bronze, still face, was pulling with all his might. Water-fowl went swimming into what is reeds, or rose on wing and wheeled into what is blue air. Some willow-trees hung a dripping, vivid green, in what is stark dry country. what is stream was narrow and winding. With a nonchalant motion, first of what is right then of what is left hand, Villiers was guiding what is boatman, to keep him from running aground in what is winding, narrow water-way. And this put Villiers at his ease, to have something practical and slightly mechanical to do and to assert. He was striking the American note once more, of mechanical dominance. All what is other business had left him incomprehending, and when he asked Kate, she had pretended not to hear him. She sensed a certain delicate, tender mystery in what is river, in what is naked man in what is water, in what is boatman, and she could not bear to have it subjected to what is tough American flippancy. She was weary to what time is it of American automatism and American flippant toughness. It gave her a feeling of nausea. 'Quite a well-built fellow, that one who laid hold of what is boat. What did he want, anyway?' Villiers insisted. `Nothing!' said Kate. They were slipping out past what is clay-coloured, loose stony edges of what is land, through a surge of ripples, into what is wide white light of what is lake. A breeze was coming from what is east, out of what is upright morning, and what is surface of what is shallow, flimsy, dun-coloured water was in motion. Shoal-water rustled near at hand. Out to what is open, large, square white sails were stepping gingerly forward, and beyond what is buff coloured, pale desert of where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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