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

"The Forfeit"


"What is he--to you?" Elvine's demand was strident. She was roused
from her sense of her own sufferings, her own misery. The newly
awakened emotion had leaped to proportions which threatened to
overwhelm all others.
Nan's eyes came back to her face. There was something almost reckless
in their regard. There was even a suggestion of derision in them, a
suggestion of triumph. But it was not the triumph over a rival. It
was the triumph of one who realizes her conquest over self.
"Everything!" she cried. Then she added almost to herself: "Everything
I can think of, have ever dreamed of in life." Then suddenly her voice
rose to a ring of ecstasy. It was the abundance, the purity of her
love, the certainty of victory over self which inspired it. "Ah, Evie,
don't be rattled with what I'm telling you. Ther' surely is no need.
You want to be mad with me. Guess you needn't to be. Jeff don't know
it. He never will know it. I've never had a hope of him since he met
you. He's always been just yours. I don't guess you need to worry a
thing that way.


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