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Sinclair, Bertrand W., 1881-1972

"The Hidden Places"

A red pool was gathering where he sat.
"How bad are you hurt, Charlie?" Hollister said. "Let me see."
"No use," Mills said thickly. "I'm done. He got me right through the
middle. And I wouldn't live if I could. Not now.
"Don't touch me," he protested, as they bent over him. "You can't do
anything. There's a hole in me you could put your hand in. But it
don't hurt. I won't last more than a minute or two, anyway."
"How did it happen?" Lawanne asked.
"I was sitting here talking to her," Mills said. "There was nothing
wrong--unless it's wrong for a man to love a woman and tell her so. I
found her sitting here, crying. She wouldn't tell me why. And I
suppose maybe that stirred me up. I hadn't meant to start it
again--because we'd had that out long ago. But I tried to persuade her
to go away with me--to make a fresh start. I wanted her--but I've been
doing that for a long time. She's only stuck to this Bland--because--oh,
I don't know why. I don't savvy women. She liked me. But not enough. I
was trying to persuade her to break loose.


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