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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"Green Fancy"

That is what they held over me. They made it very clear to
me that nothing was to be gained by an appeal to you. You would die,
and I would be no better off than before. It was I who took the
chance. When I spoke to you on the couch that night, I--oh, don't you
see? Don't you see that I wantonly, cruelly, selfishly risked YOUR
life,--not my own,--when I--"
"There, there, now!" he cried, consolingly, as she put her hands to
her face and gave way to sobs. "Don't let THAT worry you. I am here
and alive, and so are you, and--for Heaven's sake don't do that! I--I
simply go all to pieces when I hear a woman crying. I--"
"Forgive me," she murmured. "I didn't mean to be so silly."
"It helps, to cry sometimes," he said lamely.
The first faint signs of day were struggling out of the night when
they stole across the road above Hart's Tavern and made their way
through the stable-yard to the rear of the house. His one thought was
to get her safely inside the Tavern. There he could defy the legions
of Green Fancy, and from there he could notify her real friends,
deliver her into their keeping,--and then regret the loss of her!
The door was locked. He delivered a series of resounding kicks upon
its stout face.


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