"It is a story of power, of passion, of suavely subtle, sensuous charm, separated by a world's width from his former winsome, wistful narrative. The 'Children of the Desert' held me for three hours as I do not remember to have been held by any book since 'Tess of the D'Urbervilles' and 'Madame Bovary." It is a splendid story, splendidly done."--William Makion Reedy
Some of the cruder minds of Eagle Pass made a sorry jest over the fact that nobody "gave the bride away" when she went to the altar--either then or during the brief period of courtship. Her father went to the wedding, of course; but he was not the kind of person you would expect to participate conspicuously in a ceremony of that sort. He was so decidedly of the black-sheep type that the people who assumed management of the affair considered it only fair to Sylvia (and to Harboro) to keep him in the background. Sylvia had never permitted Harboro to come to the house to see her. She had drawn a somewhat imaginary figure in lieu of a father to present to Harboro's mind's eye. Her father (she said) was not very well and was inclined to be disagreeable. He did not like the idea of his daughter getting married. She was all he had, and he was fearfully lonesome at times.
Harboro had accepted all this readily. He had asked no questions.
And so Little went to the