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

"The Forfeit"

It was the
faintest possible shrug.
"Everybody in Calthorpe heard of them."
Then she turned and faced him. The mask with which she confronted him
was perfect. Her dark beauty was unimpaired by a sign of emotion.
Even her cheeks had returned to their customary delicate bloom. Her
eyes shone with a world of sympathy as she came toward him.
"Jeff, don't think of it all--now, dear. It's too, too dreadful.
Guess I was wrong to let you tell me. I certainly was. It's past.
It's done with. Nothing can ever bring him back to you. To dwell upon
it, to think and feel that way, will only serve to embitter your life.
Say, try, Jeff. I'll help you, dear. I will. Sure. Sure. Won't you
try, for--my sake?"
The man took her hands in his. He drew her toward him. The strained
expression of his eyes melted before her perfect beauty.
"I'll try, Evie," he said, without conviction. Then he kissed her.
After a while she looked up.
"And the stores, Jeff?"
The man smiled down in response.
"Sure--the stores.


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