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St. Elmo by Augusta J. (Augusta Jane) Evans
page 73 of 687 (10%)

"Give me the stick, I tell you, or I--"

He did not finish the threat, but held out his hand with a
peremptory gesture.

Edna gave one swift glance around, saw that there were no other
branches within reach, saw too that the dog's face was swelling and
bleeding from its bruises, and, bending the stick across her knee,
she snapped it into three pieces, which she threw as far as her
strength would permit. There was a brief pause, broken only by the
piteous howling of the suffering creature, and, as she began to
realize what she had done, Edna's face reddened, and she put her
hands over her eyes to shut out the vision of the enraged man, who
was absolutely dumb with indignant astonishment. Presently a
sneering laugh caused her to look through her fingers, and she saw
"Ali," the dog, now released, fawning and whining at his master's
feet.

"Aha! The way of all natures, human as well as brute. Pet and fondle
and pamper them, they turn under your caressing hand and bite you;
but bruise and trample them, and instantly they are on their knees
licking the feet that kicked them. Begone! you bloodthirsty devil!
I'll settle the account at the kennel. Buffon is a fool, and Pennant
was right after all. The blood of the jackal pricks up your ears."

He spurned the crouching culprit, and as it slunk away in the
direction of the house, Edna found herself alone, face to face with
the object of her aversion, and she almost wished that the earth
would open and swallow her. Mr. Murray came close to her, held her
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