
This pasture was rather a godless waste: it was pock-marked with erupted rabbit-warrens, countless mole-hills, and dark fairy-rings in the grass. We implicitly believed in the mysterious origin of these rings, and felt that we might any misty morning find the fairies dancing. Periodically the rabbits had to be decimated, and then fierce dark men with waxed mustaches appeared, bringing ferrets in canvas bags.
Read/Innocent, 1947
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