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Rinehart, Mary Roberts

"Bab"


"It's perfectly wonderfull," Jane said, in an awed tone.
"You beat anything I've ever known for Adventures. You are the
tipe men like, for one thing. But there is one thing I could not
stand, in your place--having to know that he is making love to
the heroine every evening and twice on Wednesdays and--Bab, this
is _Wednesday_!"
I glansed at my wrist watch. It was but to o'clock.
Instantly, dear Dairy, I became conscious of a dual going on
within me, between love and duty. Should I do as instructed and
see him no more, thus crushing my inclination under the iron
heal of Resolution? Or should I cast my Parents to the winds,
and go?
Which?
At last I desided to leave it to Jane. I observed: "I'm
forbiden to try to see him. But I darsay, if you bought some
theater tickets and did not say what the play was, and we went
and it happened to be his, it would not be my fault, would it?"
I cannot recall her reply, or much more, except that I
waited in a Pharmasy, and Jane went out, and came back and took
me by the arm.
"We're going to the matinee, Bab," she said. "I'll not tell
you which one, because it's to be a surprize.


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