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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The River's End"

He wanted it
off. Its chief crime was that it made him look older. Besides, it was
inclined to be reddish. And it must tickle and prick like the deuce
when--
He brought himself suddenly to salute with an appreciative grin.
"You're there, and you've got to stick," he chuckled. After all, he was
a likable-looking chap, even with that handicap. He was glad.
He opened his door so quietly that Mary Josephine did not see him at
first. Her back was toward him as she bent over the dining-table. Her
slim little figure was dressed in some soft stuff all crinkly from
packing. Her hair, brown and soft, was piled up in shining coils on the
top of her head. For the life of him Keith couldn't keep his eyes from
traveling from the top of that glowing head to the little high-heeled
feet on the floor. They were adorable, slim little, aristocratic feet
with dainty ankles! He stood looking at her until she turned and caught
him.
There was a change since last night. She was older. He could see it
now, the utter impropriety of his cuddling her up like a baby in the
big chair--the impossibility, almost.
Mary Josephine settled his doubt. With a happy little cry she ran to
him, and Keith found her arms about him again and her lovely mouth held
up to be kissed.


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