The Lonesome Trail and Other Stories by B. M. Bower
page 48 of 199 (24%)
page 48 of 199 (24%)
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"Did you?" she asked him, still politely.
"I did a heap worse than that," said Weary, grimly determined. "I had a bad case of calf-love and made a fool uh myself generally." "What fun!" chirped the schoolma'am with an unconvincing little laugh. "Not for me, it wasn't. Whilst I had it I used to pack a lock uh that red hair in my breast pocket and heave sighs over it that near lifted me out uh my boots. Oh, I was sure earnest! But she did me the biggest favor she could; a slick-haired piano-tuner come to town and she turned me down for him. I was plumb certain my heart was busted wide open, at the time, though." Weary laughed reminiscently. "She said--I think you misunderstood her. She appears to--" Miss Satterly, though she felt that she was being very generous, did not quite know how to finish. "Not on your life! It was the first time I ever did understand Myrt. When I left there I wasn't doing any guessing." "You shouldn't have left," she told him suddenly; gripping her courage at this bold mention of his flight. How she wished she knew why he left. "Oh, I don't know. It was about the only thing I could do, at the time--the only thing, that is, that I wanted to do. It seemed like I couldn't get away fast enough." It was brazen of him, she thought, to treat it all so coolly. "And out here," he added thoughtfully, "I could get the proper focus on Myrt--which I couldn't do back there." |
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