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Vera, the Medium by Richard Harding Davis
page 91 of 144 (63%)
too. And whenever I try to get away from this" -- she stretched
out her hands to include the room about her -- "Someone tells!
Five times, now. She leaned forward appealingly, not as though
asking pity for herself, but as wishing him to see her point of
view. "I didn't choose this business," she protested, "I was
sort of born in it, and," she broke out loyally, "I hate to have
you call it a mean business; but I can't get into any other.
Whenever I have, some man says, That girl in your front office
is a thief." The restraint she put upon herself, the air of
disdain which at all times she had found the most convenient
defense, fell from her.

"It's not fair!" she cried, "it's not fair." To her
mortification, the tears of self-pity sprang to her eyes, and as
she fiercely tried to brush them away, to her greater anger,
continued to creep down her cheeks. "It was nine years ago," she
protested, "I was a child. I've been punished enough." She
raised her face frankly to his, speaking swiftly, bitterly.

"Of course, I want to get away!" she cried. "Of course, I want
friends. I've never had a friend. I've always been alone. I'm
tired, tired! I hate this business. I never know how much I hate
it until the chance comes to get away -- and I can't."

She stopped, but without lowering her head or moving her eyes
from his.

"This time," said the man quietly, "you're going to get away
from it."

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