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Vachell, Horace Annesley, 1861-1955

"Bunch Grass A Chronicle of Life on a Cattle Ranch"

"
"Surbiton."
"I'm sure it's Upper Tooting."
"And she can make her own blouses."
"Can she cook, can she milk a cow, can she keep a house clean?"
"Give her time!"
"Time? I'd like to give her father six months. What's the use of
jawing? We've been aiding and abetting a crime. We might have
prevented this slaughter of the innocents. What will that skin be like
in one year from now?"
"If she were sallow, you would be less excited."
We spent a few days in San Francisco; and then we returned to the
ranch to give a luncheon in the bride's honour. The table was set
under some splendid live-oaks in the home-pasture, which, in May,
presents the appearance of a fine English park. A creek tinkled at our
feet, and beyond, out of the soft, lavender-coloured haze, rose the
blue peaks of the Santa Lucia mountains.
"Reminds one a little of the Old Country," I remarked to Angela, who
was all smiles and quite conscious of being the most interesting
object in the landscape.
"Oh, please, don't speak of England!"
Her pretty forehead puckered, and her mouth drooped piteously. Then
she laughed, as she launched into a vivid description of her first
attempt to bake bread.


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