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Sinclair, Bertrand W., 1881-1972

"North of Fifty-Three"


"They have been a bunch of golden days, haven't they?" he whispered.
"We haven't come to a single bump in the road yet. You won't forget
this joy time if we ever do hit real hard going, will you, Hazel?"
"The bird of ill omen croaks again," she reproved. "Why should we come
to hard going, as you call it?"
"We shouldn't," he declared. "But most people do. And we might. One
never can tell what's ahead. Life takes queer and unexpected turns
sometimes. We've got to live pretty close to each other, depend
absolutely on each other in many ways--and that's the acid test of
human companionship. By and by, when the novelty wears off--maybe
you'll get sick of seeing the same old Bill around and nobody else.
You see I've always been on my good behavior with you. Do you like me
a lot?"
His arm tightened with a quick and powerful pressure, then suddenly
relaxed to let her lean back and stare up at him tenderly.
"I ought to punish you for saying things like that," she pouted. "Only
I can't think of any effective method. Sufficient unto the day is the
evil thereof--and there is no evil in _our_ days."
"Amen," he whispered softly--and they fell to silent contemplation of
the rose and gold that spread in a wonderful blazon over all the
western sky.


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