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

"The Forfeit"

An' she's goin' to take you. Say, Jeff,
she's one lucky woman."
In a moment the tide of the younger man's feelings was set flowing. In
a moment the egoism of the lover made a generous nature forget all else
but the passion that absorbed him. In a moment the thought that this
man was Nan's father, and that the dearest wish of his life was that
he, Jeff, should marry his daughter, was forgotten.
"Lucky? But you got it wrong, Bud," Jeff cried, sitting erect, his
face flushed with the passionate stirring of Ills strong heart. "It's
I who'll be lucky, if she don't turn me down. Man, I'm not worth the
dust on her shoes. I'm not fit to lackey for her. Nor--nor is any
other feller. Say, Bud," he went on, leaning impressively forward, his
eyes shining with his passion, "I'm just crazy to death for her.
And--and I can't just help it. I'd go through hell's flames for her,
man, I'd----"
"Say, boy, don't worry that-a-way. Jest marry her instead," Bud broke
in with his gentlest smile. "You're all sorts of a boy, Jeff, and I
don't figger you got call to talk about the dust of any woman's shoes.


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