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

"The Forfeit"


Say, don't speak. Not just a single word. Guess you can say all you
need when I'm through," she cried, as the man, with eyes ablaze, sought
to break in. "When I'm through I'll listen. Say, bring this right
home here. We're being robbed by cattle thieves. I don't guess
they're better or worse than your brother. What if he'd been one of
this gang? If you'd got this gang, with him in it? Would you've let
him go and hanged the others? Tell me. Tell me right here and now."
The man sprang from his seat. He moved away to the window.
"You're talking foolish," he flung over his shoulder. "It's not the
position. My brother's deserts aren't in question. It's Evie's act.
My wife's act. You're a woman and defend her. How could you be
expected to see a man's point of view?"
"There can be no man's point of view in it," Nan cried warmly. "I
guess there's just one point. The point of right and justice. In
justice she's not done a thing to make you act this way. For your
sake, for hers, for the sake of justice you'll have to go back to her.


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