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Bonner, Geraldine, 1870-1930

"The Emigrant Trail"

He hated him when he saw that, all unconsciously, he had
still a power to hold her from the way her passion led. And back of
all was the ancient hatred, the heritage from ages lost in the
beginnings of the race, man's of man in the struggle for a woman.
David rose from his crouching posture to his knees. The other, all his
savage instincts primed for onslaught, saw menace in the movement, and
stood braced and ready. Like Susan he understood that David had
guessed the secret. He could judge him only by his own measure, and he
knew the settling of the score had come. There was no right or justice
in his claim, only the right of the stronger to win what he wanted, but
that to him was the supreme right.
David's sick fury shot up into living flame. He judged Susan innocent,
a tool in ruthless hands. He saw the destroyer of their lives, a devil
who had worked subtly for his despoilment. The air grew dark and in
the center of the darkness, his hate concentrated on the watching face,
and an impulse, the strongest of his life, nerved him with the force to
kill. For once he broke beyond himself, rose outside the restrictions
that had held him cowering within his sensitive shell.


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