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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"The Rose in the Ring"

You'll excuse me if I say there's a--a girl at the
bottom of it."
"A girl?" fell from David's lips. "You--Great heaven, Dick, you don't
mean--Christine!"
Dick nodded, a rueful smile flickering about his lips. "Poor boy," he
said apologetically, "he can't help it. But it's so, just the same.
And I want to ask you to be on the lookout for him always, kid. He's
liable to get you some time if he can. It's dirt mean of me to say
this about my brother, but I don't want him to do anything like that.
He--he might get desperate, don't you see; and--well, just keep your
eye skinned, that's all. You--you got to remember, David, that his dad
swung for killin' a man. Mebby it's in Ernie's system, too. He's had
such a horrible, unhappy life, I--I somehow can't blame him for having
it in for us fellers that are strong and straight."
David had sunk into a chair, appalled by his words.
"But he must know that Christine doesn't care for him," he said
mechanically, his eyes on Dick's face.
"Sure he does. That's the hard part of it. He's bitter jealous of you.
Course she wouldn't think of a cripple like him.


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