The Hunted Woman by James Oliver Curwood
page 16 of 316 (05%)
page 16 of 316 (05%)
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"Yes--all of them read your books," she replied, looking straight into his face. "And I guess--in many ways--you have pointed out things that are true." It was his turn to show surprise. "You believe that?" "I do. More than that--I have always thought that I knew your secret--the big, hidden thing under your work, the thing which you do not reveal because you know the world would laugh at you. And so--_you despise me!_" "Not you." "I am a woman." He laughed. The tan in his cheeks burned a deeper red. "We are wasting time," he warned her. "In Bill's place I heard you say you were going to leave on the TĂȘte Jaune train. I am going to take you to a real dinner. And now--I should let those good people know your name." A moment--unflinching and steady--she looked into his face. "It is Joanne, the name you have made famous as the dreadfulest woman in fiction. Joanne Gray." "I am sorry," he said, and bowed low. "Come. If I am not mistaken I smell new-baked bread." |
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