|
The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from The Virginian by Owen Wister: seasons, or of death, or of any actuality, it was without
offense. It would be offense should I repeat it. Then, abruptly
ending these memories of himself and Steve, he went out of the
tent, and I heard him dragging a log to the fire. When it had
blazed up, there on the tent wall was his shadow and that of the
log where he sat with his half-broken heart. And all the while I
supposed he was master of himself, and self-justified against
Steve's omission to bid him good-by.
I must have fallen asleep before he returned, for I remember
nothing except waking and finding him in his blankets beside me.
The fire shadow was gone, and gray, cold light was dimly on the
The Virginian |
