But it is the doubt thrown on the prospect of arrival, the falterings of purpose and belief, the renewals of hope that give the novel its drive and energy.

Teckla's father, the banker and trustee, owned a one-room cottage with a cook-stove and a two-story bunk, six miles out of town, on Lake Elizabeth, to be reached by a sandy trail, on foot or with horse and buggy.

The lofty passes of the mountain he has left to the more skilful climber, and hath contented himself with wandering round its base, picking up the blossoms that were scattered at his feet; or with endeavouring to portray some rustic pictures in broken rhyme.

She shoved them up and together, pushing into me, forcing my foot to fuck her tits harder and harder while gasping as if I was shoving it deep into her body...