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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"A Sappho of Green Springs"

Then suddenly, illogically,
and without a moment's warning, the pride that had sustained her
crumbled and became as the dust of the road.
She burst out and told him--this stranger!--this man she had
disliked!--all and EVERYTHING. How she had felt, how she had been
deceived, and what she had overheard!
"I thought as much," said her companion, quietly, "and that's why I sent
for your father."
"You sent for my father!--when?--where?" echoed Rose, in astonishment.
"Yesterday. He was to come to-day, and if we don't find him at the hotel
it will be because he has already started to come here by the upper and
longer road. But you leave it to ME, and don't you say anything to him
of this now. If he's at the hotel, I'll say I drove you down there to
show off the mare. Sabe? If he isn't, I'll leave you there and come back
here to find him. I've got something to tell him that will set YOU all
right." He smiled grimly, lifted the reins, the mare started forward
again, and the vehicle and its occupants disappeared in a vanishing dust
cloud.


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