Albert Bierstadt The Last of the Buffalo painting

Albert Bierstadt The Last of the Buffalo paintingAlbert Bierstadt Lake Mary California paintingAlbert Bierstadt Beach at Nassau painting
As is the way of does, the girl called Chickie, having Been, craved yet again to Be; put off her wools, unhobbled her udder, and pled to Harry that he school her more in that verb's grammar. He, however, seemed done with conjugating.
"I didn't mean it the way it sounded when I said 'Shut up'," she apologized, hugging him round the neck.
"No, no, you were right, of course." But his voice was short, and he reached to open another tin as if nothing were pressing at his ribs.
Yet though she entreated and rebuked him, bit at his lobe and cavorted in the gorse, he could not be roused. Not even her offer to shout out verses while they Were could move him.
"Don't be coarse," he said.
She teased, she scolded, she declared her husband was a better man; yet there was nothing for it but to dress and depart. Her black garment had been flung upon the bush of autumn-olive that concealed me; she slipped into it not three feet from where I squatted.
"Some Beist," she pouted. Her friend had already gathered up