Richard Forrest, Bachelor — page 111: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

102 WOMEN ARE WITCHES. Arthur knew of her proximity. One look at him satisfied him that he did. How keen are the eyes of love! Arthur had reined in his hunter sharply, as though to ~ beat a retreat, but it was too late—a meeting could not be avoided now. She had been so occupied in the management of her own fretting steed that she did not see them until they were only a few feet apart; then she lifted her head, flushed crimson, and bowed slightly, almost haughtily. Turning in his saddle, Dick saw that she was wichita: swiftly out of sight. Arthur brought his mare to her hind legs with a jerk as she shied at a squirrel darting across the road. It was one of those delightful, balmy days which we oc- casionally have in February, and which almost deceive us into believing that winter is gone. The snow had all melted, and the sun glowed as warmly as insummer. More than one robin, beguiled from his hiding-place by the soft air, chirped in the leafless trees or searched for food among the yellow grasses. They rode onin silence for a few moments, and then Dick spoke. “She was looking uncommonly well to-day,’’ he re- marked, casually. ‘‘Some women do show off best in the saddle, that’s a fact.’”’ ‘‘Miss Clayton looks well anywhere, ” responded Arthur, carelessly. ‘‘Dused handsome woman,’’ observed Dick, slyly. “Very,’’ agreed Arthur, shortly. Presently they turned into an unfrequented bridle path, and then Dick took a furtive look at Arthur, seeing there what he had dreaded to see—an expression of utter depres- COMM COOKS.