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Sinclair, Bertrand W., 1881-1972

"North of Fifty-Three"


"I don't get it; I'm taking it," she flung back. "I have eyes and
ears, and I have used them for months. Since you inquire, I happened
to be going over the Lake Division on the same train that carried your
husband back to the North. You can't knife a man without him bearing
the marks of it; and I learned in part why he was going back alone.
The rest I guessed, by putting two and two together. You're a silly,
selfish, shortsighted little fool, if my opinion is worth having."
"You've said quite enough," Hazel cried. "If you have any more
insults, please get rid of them elsewhere. I think you are--"
"Oh, I don't care what you think of me," the girl interrupted
recklessly. "If I did I wouldn't be here. I'd hide behind the
conventional rules of the game and let you blunder along. But I can't.
I'm not gifted with your blind egotism. Whatever you are, that Bill of
yours loves you, and if you care anything for him, you should be with
him. I would, if I were lucky enough to stand in your shoes. I'd go
with him down into hell itself gladly if he wanted me to!"
"Oh!" Hazel gasped. "Are you clean mad?"
"Shocked to death, aren't you?" Vesta fleered. "You can't understand,
can you? I love him--yes.


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