‘Eh bien, Eugénie. “I’ve got—I have to tell you this to make myself clear—a streak of ardent animal in my composition. I get your side all right. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. ‘This we will leave. I've a couple of kinchens in yonder rattler, whom I wish to place under old Sharples's care. It is what I have wanted, what I have meant all along. ‘She knows them. At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. I can get into my clothes. She watched for five minutes until he completely disappeared over Pine Crest, past the yellow fire hydrant and the dented stop sign. You can, too, if you wish.
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