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White, Stewart Edward, 1873-1946

"The Rules of the Game"

But the streak of
feminine divination Bob had inherited from his mother made him
understand--or made him think to understand--that Baker's satisfaction
was taken because he did not see, while Thorne was working with his eyes
open and a full sense of values. This vague glimpse Bob gained only
partially and at length. It rather opened to him new vistas of spiritual
perplexity than offered to him any solution.
He paced rapidly down the length of the lake--whereon the battered but
efficient towing launch lay idle for Sunday--to the Lake Meadow. This
was, as usual, surrounded by hundreds of campers of all classes. Bob was
known to all of them, of course; and he, in turn, had at least such a
nodding acquaintance with them that he could recognize any accretions to
their members. Near the lower end of the meadow, beneath a group of a
dozen noble firs, he caught sight of newcomers, and so strolled down
that way to see what they could be like.
He found pomp and circumstance. An enclosure had been roped off to
exclude the stock grazing at large in the meadow. Three tents had been
erected. They were made of a very light, shiny, expensive-looking
material with fringes along the walls, flies overhead and stretched in
front, sod cloths before the entrances.


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