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Cullum, Ridgwell, [pseud.], 1867-1943

"The Forfeit"

He stood tall and straight--waiting.
Her back was turned to him.
"It is not for me to say," she replied without turning.
"Why not?"
"Your work--in the world."
"Can wait. There's always--Bud Tristram."
Suddenly Elvine turned about. Her eyes were smiling, and full of a
light which had not lived in them for several years. There was not a
shadow of calculation in them now.
She held out her hand in token of dismissal.
"We had some fine rides--together," she said.
"My horses are still here."
"And--the dances. They were--very pleasant."
"Maybe they can be danced--again."
"Good-bye," she said, her beautiful hand lingering in his for a moment.
"For the present," Jeff added with decision.
Then he mechanically glanced at his timepiece. His "farewell" call had
lasted over two hours. But even so it had been all too short for him.


CHAPTER XII
THE TEMPERING
Bud was packing in his rooms at Aston's Hotel. It was late at night.
Late as it was, however, he had only left Nan, engaged at a similar
occupation, less than half an hour ago.


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