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Oyen, Henry, 1883-1921

"The Plunderer"

No right at all to anything
and sure I had the right to everything, to consume food, to wear out
clothes, to wear out servants. In return I gave--nothing. Not a
thing. But I've waked up. Earth--good, black earth--you are greater
than Mrs. Butterfly Croesus and all her brood; because you are real.
"I see it now. My silly pretty face, my woman's body, my graces,
seductions, all have been so much bait for Aunty's fishing. Bait!
That's what I've been; bait to catch goldfish! And she brought me down
here on the greatest fishing trip she's ever attempted."
"But you have a father."
"Yes. You will meet him Sunday. Well, I suppose I've bored you
terribly. Thank you for your patience. It was a relief to talk to
some one."
But she did not go. The mystery and companionship of the sub-tropical
night was upon them with its sensuous caresses. All of Payne's
hard-won man-strength seemed to leave him: he felt as weak as a child;
and he began to stammer brokenly.
"Anything I can do--if I can help--what you spoke of--Back There in the
jungle----?"
"No, no. Nobody can help me with that. It's got to be just myself. I
know that now."
She was the more self-controlled. Payne could not speak. All that he
wished to say--his strength, his life, at her call in her hour of
need--he expressed in a gesture.


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