“It was there that, several years ago, I saw him for the first time; and the sight pulled me up sharp. Even then he was the most striking figure in Starkfield, though he was but the ruin of a man. It was not so much his great height that marked him, for the “natives” were easily singled out by their lank longitude from the stockier foreign breed: it was the careless powerful look he had, in spite of a lameness checking each step like the jerk of a chain. There was something bleak and unapproachable in his face, and he was so stiffened and grizzled that I took him for an old man and was surprised to hear that he was not more than fifty-two. I had this from Harmon Gow, who had driven the stage from Bettsbridge to Starkfield in pre-trolley days and knew the chronicle of all the families on his line.”
Internet Explorer tarayıcısının 9.0 ve daha eski sürümlerini desteklememekteyiz. Web sitemizi doğru görüntüleyebilmek için tarayıcınızı güncelleyebilirsiniz, güncelleyemiyorsanız başka bir tarayıcıyı ücretsiz yükleyebilirsiniz.