Summary

Portrait of Mrs. Wilson Woodrow Mrs. Wilson Woodrow McClure's Magazine, Volume 29, Number 3… (1907)

Oh, Bob, there ain't nothin' like the desert, is there?" She looked out at the mountains, as if from glistening peaks and pine-grown slopes she strove to create for herself the image of those monotonous and sultry wastes she loved. "I can't get used to havin' the mountains so close. I feel all the time like they was a-crowdin' an' a-pushin' on me. I want to be where I kin breathe."
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Mrs. Wilson Woodrow Mrs. Wilson Woodrow McClure's Magazine, Volume 29, Number 3… (1907)

Behind her was a little garden flaring with scarlet geraniums and yellow zinnias, and a cottage brave and flaunting in fresh paint. In Zenith, a mining village of straggling, unpainted cabins, and yards adorned with tin cans, broken crockery, and stray bits of wire, the neat vividness of house and garden presented a pictorial and artificial effect, toy-like in its setting of austere and gloomy mountains; but if the little dwelling seemed the expression of a primitive and childlike imagination, the woman who leaned upon the gate was real.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Mrs. Wilson Woodrow Mrs. Wilson Woodrow McClure's Magazine, Volume 29, Number 3… (1907)

Nitschkan. "Now, I'll hustle round an' make you a good, strong cup of coffee. There's nothing like it fer soul an' body. You'll feel better then. Then we'll get your clothes off, an' a nightgown on, an' we'll see where you're hurted."
"Where I'm hurted?" repeated the Pearl, her vague eyes more veiled, more tragically mysterious than ever. "I'm hurted so deep that you can't find it, Sadie Nitschkan."
"Aw, come now, we'll have you all right in a jiffy, an' Shock a-hangin' round cryin' over you an' beatin' his chest in that crazy French way of his'n.
Source: Wikisource

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