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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"A Sappho of Green Springs"

In their previous friendship he had seldom drawn near her
except to shake her hand--a circumstance that had always recurred to her
when his free and familiar life had been the subject of gossip. But she
now had a more frightened consciousness that her nerves were strangely
responding to his powerful propinquity, and she involuntarily contracted
her pretty shoulders as he gently laid the cloak upon them. Yet even
when the act was completed, she had a superstitious instinct that the
significance of this rare courtesy was that it was final, and that
he had helped her to interpose something that shut him out from her
forever.
She was turning away with a heightened color, when the sound of light,
hurried footsteps, and the rustle of a woman's dress was heard in the
hall. A swift recollection of her companion's infelicitous reputation
now returned to her, and Grace Nevil, with a slight stiffening of her
whole frame, became coldly herself again. Mr. Rushbrook betrayed neither
surprise nor agitation.


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