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

"The Forfeit"

I just want you to see what you're doing by
her, and all the time she's done you no wrong. Do you get that, dear?
Evie's never done you a wrong, and in return you're going to do all you
know to kill her heart dead."
"Done me no wrong?" There was a desperate sort of sneer in the words.
They were the words of a man who is robbed of denial but still protests.
But Nan rejected even that. She swiftly flung it back in her sense of
the injustice of it.
"It's as I said, Jeff. Just as I said," she declared solemnly. She
drew a deep breath. She was about to take a plunge which might bear
her she knew not whither. "Oh, I could get mad with you for that. I
could so, Jeff. I know the story of it. You've told it yourself, and
I don't guess you've spared her any. But you're blinding yourself
because you're crazy to do so. You're blinding yourself to all sense
of justice to defend a wretched scallawag who happened to be your
brother. Say, you're trying to fix on your wife, the woman who loves
you, and who you guess you love, all the dirt you should heap on the
worthless man who lived by theft, and maybe, even, was a murderer.


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