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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"A Sappho of Green Springs"

Mrs. Randolph smiled sarcastically; it was plain that
these people, with all their boasted independence, were quite amenable
to pecuniary considerations. Nevertheless, as Dawson remained looking
quietly at her, she said:--
"Then I suppose they've concluded to go and see?"
"No; I've sent them away so that they couldn't HEAR."
"Hear what?"
"What I've got to say to you."
She looked at him suddenly. Then she said, with a disdainful
glance around her: "I see I am helpless here, and--thanks to your
trickery--alone. Have a care, sir; I warn you that you will have to
answer to Major Randolph for any insolence."
"I reckon you won't tell Major Randolph what I have to say to you," he
returned coolly.
Her lips were nearly a grayish hue, but she said scornfully: "And why
not? Do you know who you are talking to?"
The man came lazily forward to the carryall, carelessly brushed aside
the slack reins, and resting his elbows on the horse's back, laid his
chin on his hands, as he looked up in the woman's face.


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