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Dell, Ethel M. (Ethel May), 1881-1939

"The Swindler and Other Stories"


This was intolerable. She felt her courage ebbing fast.
"I'm not clever," she said, a desperate quiver in her voice, "and I--I'm
not good at guessing riddles."
In the silence that followed, she wondered wildly if she had made him
angry at last. Then he spoke in his usual good-natured drawl, and her
heart gave a great throb of relief.
"I think you're chaffin'," he said.
"I'm not," she assured him feverishly. "I'm not indeed. I always mean
what I say. That is----"
"Of course," said Tots, with kindly reassurance. "I knew that. Why, my
dear child, that's just what made me do it. I took a likin' to you for
that very reason."
She stared at him speechlessly. There was absolutely nothing left to
say. He really cared for her, it seemed. He really cared! And she? With
a gasp of despair she abandoned the unequal strife, and hid her face
from him in an agony of tears. Why, why, why, had this knowledge come to
her so late?
He was by her side in an instant, stroking, soothing, comforting her, as
though she had been a child. When she partially recovered herself her
head was against his shoulder, and he was drying her eyes clumsily but
tenderly with his own handkerchief.
"There! there!" he said. "Don't cry any more. Some one's been troublin'
you. Just let me know who it is, and I'll wring his neck."
She raised herself weakly. The desire to laugh quite left her.


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