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Wilson, Harry Leon, 1867-1939

"The Boss of Little Arcady"


I was secretly proud of the exquisite thoroughness with which he now
ignored her. Again and again he assured me in her very presence that the
woman was nothing, _could_ be nothing, to him. I knew this well
enough--I needed no protestations from him; but I thought it was well
that she should know it. I saw that he had probably consented to receive
her addresses through a long afternoon, had perhaps eaten of her
provender, and even behaved with a complaisance which could have led her
to hope that some day she might be something to him. But I knew that he
had not persistently faced the peril of being trampled to death by me in
his pulpy infancy--so great his fear of our separation--to let a mere
woman come between us at this day. And it was well that he should now
tell her this in the plainest of words.
The woman seemed to view me with an increased respect from that very
moment. She tried first to bring Jim to her side by a soft call that
almost made me tremble for his integrity. But he did not so much as turn
his head. His eyes were for me alone. With a rubber shoe flung gallantly
over his shoulder, he danced incitingly before me, praying that I would
pretend to be crazed by the sight of his prize and seek to wrench it
from him.


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