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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"The Strange Case of Cavendish"

"
He looked up at her, his glance almost vacant, and she could but
perceive how his chin shook.
"What shall we do?"
"Do!" she gripped his shoulder. "Are you a man and ask that? We will
fight! Did you imagine I would ever surrender myself into the hands of
that devil, after what has happened? I would rather die; yes, I will
die before he ever puts hand on me. And what about you, Mr. Cavendish?
Are you going to lie there moping? Answer me--I thought you were a
man--a gentleman."
The words were like a blow in his face, and under their sting he
staggered to his feet; scarlet blazed in both his cheeks.
"You have no right to say that to me," he said angrily. "I'm not that
kind."
"I know it," she admitted, "but you lose your nerve; this isn't your
game. Well, it isn't mine either, for the matter of that.
Nevertheless it has got to be played, and we're going to play it
together. Those fellows will be at that door presently--just so soon
as Mendez tells them who are inside here. They'll try us once, and, if
we can beat them back, that will give us a breathing spell.


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