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Rinehart, Mary Roberts

"Bab"

Patten, in a raging tone. "She
let him out, and of course he's done no work on the Play or
anything. I'd like to choke her."
Nobody spoke then, and my heart beat fast and hard. I leave
it to anybody, how they'd like to be shut in a closet and
threatened with a violent Death from without. Would or would
they not ever be the same person afterwards?
"I'll tell you what I'd do," said the Beecher woman. "I'd
climb up the back of father, next door, and tell him what his
little Daughter has done, Because I know she's mixed up in it,
towle or no towle. Reg is always sappy when they're seventeen.
And she's been looking moon-eyed at him for days."
Well, the Pattens went away, and Mrs. Beecher manacured her
Nails,--I could hear her fileing them--and sang around and was
not much concerned, although for all she knew he was in the
briney deep, a corpse. How true it is that "the paths of glory
lead but to the grave."
I got very tired and much hoter, and I sat down on the
floor. After what seemed like hours, Mrs. Patten came back, all
breathless, and she said:
"The girl's gone to, Clare.


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