"I wonder if there are many folk like her down South. She's like a breath of country air, somehow. She freshens me up above a bit. Who'd a thought that face--as bright and as strong as the angel I dream of--could have known the sorrow she speaks on? I wonder how she'll sin. All on us must sin. I think a deal on her, for sure. But father does the like, I see. And Mary even. It's not often hoo's stirred up to notice much."
'I wonder if there are many folk like her down South. She's like a breath of country air, somehow. Who'd ha' thought that bright face could have known the sorrow she speaks on? I wonder how she'll sin. All on us must sin. I think of her a lot, for sure. But father does the same. And Mary even. It's not often hoo's stirred up to notice much.'
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