Fred S. Lincoln, An Indiana Girl — Chapter 1 (1901)
“ The wound so fresh, at the thought of the parson's betrayal, would, in other times, have served him for a week's sorrowing, but now he could not cling to it; the childish effort to nurse the pain and hold it at his heart was fruitless, for the fear that followed close upon the betrayal chilled his every consciousness and left him, body and soul, unalive to the weight of sorrow or the pain of throbbing self-pity. ”
Fred S. Lincoln, An Indiana Girl — Chapter 1 (1901)
“ Disregarding the two short stretches of sidewalk that bordered the street, Snellins stepped out into the road, facing toward the east. The light fell upon his back and cast a short shadow before him that he saw without observing, and, as it moved along with jerky motion, he tried to uproot the doubt of the parson's friendship, which grieved him sorely. Times without number a smile spread over his face only to be driven off by a doubt insubordinate to his heart's good inclinations. ”
Fred S. Lincoln, An Indiana Girl — Chapter 1 (1901)
“ Again there was a pause, but no one seemed willing to carry further the line of talk, though the unanimity of thought was obvious, and Snellins, who sat against the counter in the iron saddle of a sulky plow which had been brought in for repairs, became embarrassed by the gravity of things, and, as much in self-consciousness as from a sense of duty, said meekly: "The parson's young, men; remember he ain't much more'n a boy.""Young! young? you say," shouted Landy, when the seat brace slipped from under Snellins, letting him to the floor, and the group laughed uproariously at his discomfiture. ”
