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Oyen, Henry, 1883-1921

"The Plunderer"

She was attired in a soft white waist and white riding
breeches, but there was about her none of the tomboy so easily
suggested by such togs. In spite of the masculinity of her attire the
long, supple lines of her body were exquisitely feminine. And she was
as relieved at the sight of him as he was glad to behold her.
"I knew you hadn't gone away," said she, after a short silence.
"Who said I had gone away?"
"They all said so."
"Garman?"
A blush suffused the clear skin of her cheeks; and as she looked away a
sensation of dread crept round Roger's heart.
"Never mind," he said. "Never mind who said it; I'm still here; and
I'm going to remain."
"You found your land?"
"Yes."
"It was not as represented, was it?" she asked slowly.
"Oh, that!" he said carelessly. "That's all a matter of salesmanship.
An honest, enthusiastic salesman will boost his goods to the skies
because that's the way they look to him. A farmer with a bunch of hill
and rocks as his property will swear he's got the finest farm in the
country because he's enthusiastic about it. This is wild land here--a
wild, wild land proposition. It may look bad now as a business deal,
but another year and there'll be a difference."
"Then you don't feel you've been cheated?" she said, relief and
hopefulness in her tone.


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