Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. Poor young lady! She trembled too, and was unable to give her evidence. "And you have seen … drunken men?" Prudence's tones were full of suppressed horror.
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