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FORE:"I hate these romantic realists��they're worse than the old-fashioned Zola sort.""I want to git out o' this."

FORE:Then, at last, after experiences which had had [Pg 91]boredom added to their pain by repetition, she murmured��"What is it, mother?"��and a real, breathing, living, crying, little girl was put into her arms.Reuben himself believed in the fit, and a real anxiety tortured him as he thrust his lantern into the gaping caverns of bushes. He had by his thoughtless and excessive zeal allowed Boarzell to rob him of another man. Of course, it did not follow that George was dead,[Pg 223] but unless they found him soon it was quite likely that he would not survive exposure on such a night. If so, Reuben had only himself to thank for it. He should have listened to his daughter, and either let George off his work or made him work near home. He did not pretend to himself that he loved this weakling son, or that his death would cause his fatherhood much grief, but he found himself with increasing definiteness brought up against the conviction that Boarzell was beating him, wringing its own out of him by slow, inexorable means, paying him back a hundredfold for every acre he took or furrow he planted.

FORE: