Quotation from: The Valley of the Moon

Written by: Jack London


She did not know always when she left the house, nor where her
feet took her. Once, she came to herself in a strange part of
Oakland. The street was wide and lined with rows of shade trees.
Velvet lawns, broken only by cement sidewalks, ran down to the
gutters. The houses stood apart and were large. In her vocabulary
they were mansions. What had shocked her to consciousness of
herself was a young man in the driver's seat of a touring car
standing at the curb. He was looking at her curiously and she
recognized him as Roy Blanchard, whom, in front of the Forum,
Billy had threatened to whip. Beside the car, bareheaded, stood
another young man. He, too, she remembered. He it was, at the
Sunday picnic where she first met Billy, who had thrust his cane
between the legs of the flying foot-racer and precipitated the
free-for-all fight. Like Blanchard, he was looking at her
curiously, and she became aware that she had been talking to
herself. The babble of her lips still beat in her ears. She
blushed, a rising tide of shame heating her face, and quickened
her pace. Blanchard sprang out of the car and came to her with
lifted hat. "Is anything the matter?" he asked.

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Old Dominion University CS Dept
Designed by Joan A. Smith for the CRATE project
Created: 2007-2-22T12:35:29Z
Part of the CratePreservation Project
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Part of a series of experiments in web preservation under the direction of Michael L. Nelson, Ph.D.