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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Cressy"

I ain't got it," he continued,
in his slowest, most passionless manner, "and a row more or less ain't
much account to me--but YOU, you keep your kam." He paused, stepped
back, and regarding the master, with a slight wave of his crippled hand
over his whole person, as if indicating some personal adornment, said,
"It sets you off!"
He nodded, turned, and re-entered the ball-room. Mr. Ford, without
trusting himself to further speech, elbowed his way through the crowded
staircase to the street. But even there his strange anger, as well
as the equally strange remorse, which had seized him in McKinstry's
presence, seemed to evaporate in the clear moonlight and soft summer
air. There was the river-bank, with the tremulous river glancing through
the dreamy mist, as they had seen it from the window together. He even
turned to look back on the lighted ball-room, as if SHE might have been
looking out, too. But he knew he should see her again to-morrow, and
he hurriedly put aside all reserve, all thought of the future, all
examination of his conduct, to walk home enwrapped in the vaguer
pleasure of the past.


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