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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The River's End"

"
McDowell turned away, and for a space Keith saw the muscles in the back
of his neck twitching.
"Derwent, maybe you've guessed, maybe you understand," he said after a
moment with his face still turned to the window. "Of course she will
never know. I'm too Old, old enough to be her father. But I've got the
right to watch over her, and if any man ever injures her--"
His fists grew knotted, and softly Keith said behind him:
"You'd possibly do what John Keith did to the man who wronged his
father. And because the Law is not always omniscient, it is also
possible that Shan Tung may have to answer in some such way. Until
then, until she comes to you of her own free will and with gladness in
her eyes tells you her own secret and why she kept it from you--until
she does that, I say, it is your part to treat her as if you had seen
nothing, guessed nothing, suspected nothing. Do that, McDowell, and
leave the rest to me."
He went out, leaving the iron man still with his face to the window.
With Mary Josephine there was no subterfuge. His mind was still
centered in his own happiness. He could not wipe out of his brain the
conviction that if he waited for Shan Tung he was waiting just so long
under the sword of Damocles, with a hair between him and doom.


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