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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Cressy"


"Ah well, suppose we begin by giving up Seth Davis, eh? You see that I'm
pretty well posted, Miss Cressy."
"You alarm me," said Cressy sweetly. "But I reckon he HAD given up."
"He was in the running that night at the ball. Looked half savage while
I was dancing with you. Wanted to eat me."
"Poor Seth! And he used to be SO particular in his food," said the witty
Cressy.
Mr. Stacey was convulsed. "And there's Mr. Dabney--Uncle Ben," he
continued, "eh? Very quiet but very sly. A dark horse, eh? Pretends to
take lessons for the sake of being near some one, eh? Would he were a
boy again because somebody else is a girl?"
"I should be frightened of you if you lived here always," returned
Cressy with invincible naivete; "but perhaps then you wouldn't know so
much."
Stacey simply accepted this as a compliment. "And there's Masters," he
said insinuatingly.
"Not Joe?" said Cressy with a low laugh, turning her eyes to the door.
"Yes," said Stacey with a quick, uneasy smile. "Ah! I see we mustn't
drop HIM.


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