And I had run a very long way indeed-almost, exaggerating a bit, halfway round the world. In fact I had come all the way from London to The Dreamy Pines Motor Court, which is ten miles west of Lake George, the famous American tourist resort in the Adirondacks-that vast expanse of mountains, lakes, and pine forests which forms most of the northern territory of New York State. I had started on September the first, and it was now Friday the thirteenth of October. When I had left, the grimy little row of domesticated maples in my square had been green, or as green as any tree can be in London in August. Now, in the billion-strong army of pine trees that marched away northward toward the Canadian border, the real, wild maples flamed here and there like shrapnel-bursts. And I felt that I, or at any rate my skin, had changed just as much-from the grimy sallowness that had been the badge of my London life to the snap and color and sparkle of living out of doors and going to bed early and all those other dear dull things that had been part of my life in Quebec before it was decided that I must go to England and learn to be a "lady." Very unfashionable, of course, this cherry-ripe, strength-through-joy complexion, and I had even stopped using lipstick and nail polish, but to me it had been like sloughing off a borrowed skin and getting back into my own, and I was childishly happy and pleased with myself whenever I looked in the mirror (that's another thing-I'll never say "looking-glass" again; I just don't have to any more) and found myself not wanting to paint a different face over my own. I'm not being smug about this. I was just running away from the person I'd been for the past five years. I wasn't particularly pleased with the person I was now, but I had hated and despised the other one, and I was glad to be rid of her face.
‘I hope for ever to abide
He had to be joking. Arnulfo? He wouldn’t even talk to me, let alone join me for a run. If hewouldn’t go for a jog with a guy who’d come to pay homage right at his doorstep, why would hetravel across the mountains to run with a pack of gringos he’d never seen before? And Silvino; I’dmet Silvino the last time I was down here. We’d run into him by chance in Creel, right after I’dgone running with Caballo. He was in his pickup and wearing his jeans, the spoils from themarathon he’d won in California. Where did Caballo get the idea that Silvino would bother comingto his race? Silvino couldn’t even be induced to run another marathon for the chance of another bigpayday. I’d learned enough about the Tarahumara, and those two runners in particular, to knowthere was no way the Quimare clan had any intention of turning up.
“You know where you are, I suppose, Montgomery?” said the Earl. “Not I,” answered Edmund, “further than that my present situation is a very enviable one!” This he said with an air of light gallantry, which concealed tolerably well both the reality and the extravagance of his feelings.
Miss Murdstone was good enough to take me out to the cart, and to say on the way that she hoped I would repent, before I came to a bad end; and then I got into the cart, and the lazy horse walked off with it.