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Oyen, Henry, 1883-1921

"The Plunderer"

He strutted as he walked, and
stood for a moment framed between two palm trees where the path entered
the pergola.
"Little Annette!" he murmured, beaming patronizingly upon the girl.
"Happy again. I knew you would be. But I haven't heard you laugh for
a long time."
"No," said the girl, looking at him intently, "I haven't laughed since
we came here."
"But you are happy now. Yes, yes, quite happy, quite happy. Up early
this morning and all round the place like a little lark."
"Because I couldn't sleep. And because--early in the morning--others
are not up--and I can be alone."
"No one can--no one can be alone in this world, dear. No one should.
The laws of God and man, of Nature, forbid it." His old,
self-satisfied eyes took in the long rounded lines of her figure and
the virgin freshness of her throat and face with assuring calculation.
"Especially, my dear, is it a crime to attempt to remain alone when
nature has so abundantly endowed one for the purpose of--not remaining
alone. Also, my dear," he continued, the playfulness gone from his
tones as he pointed sternly at the diamond upon the third finger of her
left hand, "you will kindly not forget that you wear that."
"Do you think there is any opportunity for me to forget it?" she asked.


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