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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"A Sappho of Green Springs"

"
"You'd rather he had not," repeated Mr. Rushbrook, slowly.
"Yes," continued Grace, leaning forward with her rounded elbows on her
knees, and her slim, arched feet on the fender. "Now you are going
to laugh at me, Mr. Rushbrook, but all this seemed to me to spoil any
spontaneous feeling I might have towards him, and limit my independence
in a thing that should be a matter of free will alone. It seemed too
much like a business proposition! There, my kind friend!" she added,
looking up and trying to read his face with a half girlish pout,
followed, however, by a maturer sigh, "I'm bothering you with a woman's
foolishness instead of talking business. And"--another sigh--"I suppose
it IS business for my uncle, who has, it seems, bought into this Trust
on these possible contingencies, has, perhaps, been asking questions
of Mr. Leyton. But I don't want you to think that I approve of them, or
advise your answering them. But you are not listening."
"I had forgotten something," said Rushbrook, with an odd preoccupation.


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