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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Cressy"

Paw and Maw have been at me about it all night--ever since those
Harrisons in their anxiousness to make up their quarrel, rushed over
with the news. I'm tired of it!"
For an instant he was staggered. How much had she learned! With the
same awkward indirectness, he said vaguely, "But it might have been YOUR
letters, you know?"
"But it wasn't," she said, simply. "It OUGHT to have been. I wish it
had"--She stopped, and again regarded him with a strange expression.
"Well," she said slowly, "what are you going to do?"
"To find out the scoundrel who has done this," he said firmly, "and
punish him as he deserves."
The almost imperceptible shrug that had raised her shoulders gave way as
she regarded him with a look of wearied compassion.
"No," she said, gravely, "you cannot. They're too many for you. You must
go away, at once."
"Never," he said indignantly. "Even if it were not a cowardice. It would
be more--a confession!"
"Not more than they already know," she said wearily. "But, I tell you,
you MUST go.


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