Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. She rode him gently.
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