The son, looking down on her, had mighty flesh-encumbered shoulders, their solidity carrying down to the waist so that the ... His lips tended to turn in as with a quick intake of breath and they held together in the hard thin line of a concealed scowl. ... But there wona#39;t be rest or peace for me until ... aquot;But this is a secret a a secret hardly whispered in the nook of your own sainta#39;s shrine. ... The. Color. of. Sin. 39.
|Title||:||A Yankee passional|