Sinclair makes one love the hidden places of the rugged and beautiful section of the Northwest in which his story is laid, and he has given us a book which is filled with the mingled awe and spirit of adventure that enfold the dwellers in the wilderness and which is also a genuine human document.
se, at some far-off, misty mile-post, he would begin to grow old. Then he would die in a dignified manner, full of years and honors, and his children would carry on after him.
Hollister failed to reckon with the suavities of international diplomacy, with the forces of commercialism in relation to the markets of the world.
The war burst upon and shattered the placidity of his existence very much as the bombs from the first Zeppelins shattered the peace and security of London and Paris.
He reacted to the impetus of the German assault as young men of his class uniformly reacted. There was in Hollister's mind no doubt or equivocation about what he must do. But he did not embark upon this adventure joyously. He could not help weighing the chances. He understood that in this day and age he was a fortunate man. He had a great deal to lose. But he felt that he must go. He was not, however, filled with the witless idea that service with the Expeditionary Force was to be an adventure of some few mo
The Hidden Places? I found several in this book. You may find more.
There are places that one can hide to conceal physical wounds.
There are places in the heart to hide disappointments and loves wounds.
There are places in the mind to hide the conflicts of men and self.
I was afraid, about half way through, that it might turn into a soap opera, but it did not. Oh, there was the makings for such, a former wife, her jealous husband, a blind wife who hoped her husband could see beyond her lack of sight, and a man afraid she would see again and end his happiness.