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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Cressy"

But he did not know the lazy nerves of the girl before
him. She uttered no outcry. And even in the faint dim light he could see
only the same expression of conscious understanding come over her face
that he had seen in the ball-room, mingled with a vague joy that parted
her breathless lips. As he moved quickly forward their hands met; she
caught his with a quick significant pressure and darted back to the
window.
"Oh, 'Tave!" (very languidly.)
"Yes."
"You two had better wait for me at the edge of the trail yonder, and
keep a lookout for folks going by. Don't let them see you hanging round
so near. Do you hear? I'm all right."
With her hand still meaningly lifted, she stood gazing at the two
figures until they slowly receded towards the distant trail. Then she
turned as he approached her, the reflection of the moonlit road striking
up into her shining eyes and eager waiting face. A dozen questions were
upon his lips, a dozen replies were ready upon hers. But they were never
uttered, for the next moment her eyes half closed, she leaned forward
and fell--into a kiss.


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