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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Cressy"

"
"Rupert," said the lady, with a slightly coquettish laugh; "you have
made him as much a woman-hater as yourself. I offered to take him in
our party, and he ran away to you." She paused, and giving him a furtive
critical glance said, with an easy mingling of confidence and audacity,
"Why don't YOU go? Nobody'll hurt you."
"I'm not so sure of that," replied Mr. Ford gallantly. "There's the
melancholy example of Rupert always before me."
Mrs. Tripp tossed her chignon and descended a step of the stairs. "You'd
better go," she continued, looking up over the balusters. "You can look
on if you can't dance."
Now Mr. Ford COULD dance, and it so chanced, rather well, too. With this
consciousness he remained standing in half indignant hesitation on the
landing as she disappeared. Why shouldn't he go? It was true, he had
half tacitly acquiesced in the reserve with which he had been treated,
and had never mingled socially in the gatherings of either sex at Indian
Spring--but that was no reason. He could at least dress himself, walk to
the Court-house and--look on.


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