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Chapter 17. AMONG THE HAYCOCKS (continued)
"Only about twenty miles, then take car and whisk back to my work," he answered, breaking a delicate fern for her.
"Are you never lonely?"
"Never. I take my best friends along, you know," and he gave a slap to the pocket from which peeped the volume of Thoreau.
"I'm afraid you leave your very best behind you," said Rose, alluding to the book he had lent her yesterday.
"I'm glad to share it with you. I have much of it here, and a little goes a great way, as you will soon discover," he answered, tapping his head.
"I hope the reading will do as much for me as it seems to have done for you. I'm happy, but you are wise and good I want to be also."
"Read away, and digest it well, then write and tell me what you think of it. Will you?" he asked as they paused where the four roads met.
"If you will answer. Shall you have time with all your other work? Poetry I beg pardon medicine is very absorbing, you know," answered Rose mischievously, for just then, as he stood bareheaded in the shadows of the leaves playing over his fine forehead, she remembered the chat among the haycocks, and he did not look at all like an M.D.
"I'll make time."
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