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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"The Rose in the Ring"

And then, when the head-balancing
husband suddenly appeared and walked off with Denise, leaving the
embarrassed youngsters to follow at any pace they chose, you may be
quite certain that there was a conspiracy afoot.
Christine walked demurely beside David, under a rigid umbrella. They
were seven blocks from the circus lot; it was quite dark and drizzly.
For the first two blocks they had nothing to say to each other, except
to venture the information that it was raining. In the second block, a
very lonely stretch indeed, David, whose eyes had not left the backs
of the wily couple ahead, regained his composure and with it his
natural gallantry.
"Perhaps you had better take my arm, Miss--Miss Christine," he said
stiffly.
She took it, rather awkwardly perhaps but very resolutely.
"I thought I heard something in the bushes back there," she said in
extenuation.
"It was the wind," he vouchsafed, but his thoughts went at once to
Blake. Involuntarily he looked over his shoulder and quickened his
pace. She felt his arm stiffen.
"I'm quite sure it was a cow," she said.
"Are you afraid of cows?"
"Dreadfully.


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