Sucks books

She was making progress in Italian, though
Assunta's swift tongue and local patois were as yet beyond her
comprehension. But she knew that her dead smuggler husband was the
subject on Assunta's lips and nodded her sympathy.
"Sons of dogs!" cried the widow; then a steep section of their road
reduced her to silence.
The great event of that day, which brought Jenny Doria so violently
back into the tragedy of the past, had yet to happen, and many hours
elapsed before she was confronted with it. The women climbed
presently to a little field of meadow grass that sparkled with tiny
flowers and spread its alpine sward among thickets of mulberry. Here
their work awaited them; but first they ate the eggs and wheaten
bread, walnuts and dried figs that they had brought and shared a
little flask of red wine. They finished with a handful of cherries
and then Assunta began to pluck leaves for her great basket while
Jenny loitered a while and smoked a cigarette. It was a new habit
acquired since her marriage.


Pages:
223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247