The Bohemian Girl | Willa Cather | Education | Literary Studies | eBooks


The Bohemian Girl

by Willa Cather


Bohemian Girl - Microsoft Reader eBook

The Bohemian Girl ~~ Microsoft Reader eBook

Microsoft Reader eBook

Platforms
Windows 98+, Tablet PC, Pocket PC 2003

Features
ClearType, advanced navigation, search, personal library, bookmarks, notes, and drawing.

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Price: $2.29


Bohemian Girl - Palm eBook

The Bohemian Girl ~~ Palm eBook

Palm eBook

Platforms
All Palm & Pocket PC handheld devices plus all Windows and Macintosh computers.

Features
Advanced navigation, search, bookmarks, and powerful viewing features.

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Price: $4.14


The Bohemian Girl Summary:

The transcontinental express swung along the windings of the Sand River Valley, and in the rear seat of the observation car a young man sat greatly at his ease, not in the least discomfited by the fierce sunlight which beat in upon his brown face and neck and strong back. There was a look of relaxation and of great passivity about his broad shoulders, which seemed almost too heavy until he stood up and squared them. He wore a pale flannel shirt and a blue silk necktie with loose ends. His trousers were wide and belted at the waist, and his short sack coat hung open. His heavy shoes had seen good service. His reddish-brown hair, like his clothes, had a foreign cut. He had deep-set, dark blue eyes under heavy reddish eyebrows. His face was kept clean only by close shaving, and even the sharpest razor left a glint of yellow in the smooth brown of his skin. His teeth and the palms of his hands were very white. His head, which looked hard and stubborn, lay indolently in the green cushion of the wicker chair, and as he looked out at the ripe summer country a teasing, not unkindly smile played over his lips. Once, as he basked thus comfortably, a quick light flashed in his eves, curiously dilating the pupils, and his mouth became a hard, straight line, gradually relaxing into its former smile of rather kindly mockery. He told himself, apparently, that there was no point in getting excited; and he seemed a master hand at taking his ease when he could. Neither the sharp whistle of the locomotive nor the brakeman’s call disturbed him. It was not until after the train had stopped that he rose, put on a Panama hat, took from the rack a small valise and a flute case, and stepped deliberately to the station platform. The baggage was already unloaded, and the stranger presented a check for a battered sole-leather steamer trunk.



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