‘We will converse in your own tongue,’ he said in French as he led her away. The girl nodded sagely. It was not only Leonardo who had instilled in her this distrust of men. I’ve made no one happy. She saw herself building up a life upon that —a life restrained, kindly, beautiful, a little pathetic and altogether dignified; a life of great disciplines and suppressions and extensive reserves. It hadn’t even been called Kentucky back then when the Shawnee still hunted deer over mossy hills and the smoke from their fires could still inspire terror.
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