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

"The Forfeit"


"That's so--sure."
The emphasis was unmistakable. Nan waited almost breathlessly in a
delicious condition of apprehension.
"Wher's Nan?"
Jeff's demand came sharply.
"Som'eres around inside."
"I came up to see her."
"So?"
"Yes."
The lowing of the cattle in the pastures was dying with the deepening
twilight. The calves seemed to have found their mothers and all was
contentment. Nan glad of the growing shadows. For her, obscurity the
only thing just now.
Jeff's voice again broke the silence. There was something utterly
simple in the manner of his words.
"I love Nan, Bud," he said. "I want to tell her so. If she'd marry
me, I don't guess there'd be a thing left worth asking for. But I
don't guess she will. Why should she? I'm not worth her. Gee! But I
want her bad."
Nan buried her face in her hands. Then she drew back, back, far into
the dusk of the room. But she could not escape the voices.
Bud's answer came slowly, deliberately. There was a curious note of
emotion in it.


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