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Sinclair, Bertrand W., 1881-1972

"North of Fifty-Three"

Probably he had been slapped before, and regarded
it as part of the game. He attempted to draw her closer.
"Why, you're a regular scrapper," he smiled. "Now, I'm sure you didn't
cuff Bush that way."
Hazel jerked loose from his grip in a perfect fury, using at the same
time the weapons nature gave her according to her strength, whereby Mr.
Perkins suffered sundry small bruises, which were as nothing to the
bruises his conceit suffered. For, being free of him, Hazel stood her
ground long enough to tell him that he was a cad, a coward, an ill-bred
nincompoop, and other epithets grievous to masculine vanity. With that
she fled incontinently down the hill, furious, shamed almost to tears,
and wishing fervently that she had the muscle of a man to requite the
insult as it deserved. To cap the climax, Mrs. Briggs, who had seen
the two depart, observed her return alone, and, with a curious look,
asked jokingly:
"Did you lose the young man in the timber?"
And Hazel, being keyed to a fearful pitch, unwisely snapped back:
"I hope so."
Which caused Mrs. Briggs' gaze to follow her wonderingly as she went
hastily to her own room.
Like other mean souls of similar pattern, it suited Mr.


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