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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Frontier Stories"


"Here's something! It dropped from the bosom of his shirt on the
ground. Look!"
She was holding in the air, between her thumb and forefinger, a folded
bit of well-worn newspaper. Her eyes sparkled.
"Shall I open it?" she asked.
"Yes."
"It's a little ring," she said; "looks like an engagement ring.
Something is written on it. Look! 'May to Cass.'"
Cass darted forward. "It's mine," he stammered, "mine! I dropped it.
It's nothing--nothing," he went on, after a pause, embarrassed and
blushing, as the girl and her companion both stared at him--"a mere
trifle. I'll take it."
But the coroner opposed his outstretched hand. "Not much," he said,
significantly.
"But it's _mine_," continued Cass, indignation taking the place of
shame at his discovered secret. "I found it six months ago in the road.
I--picked it up."
"With your name already written on it! How handy!" said the coroner,
grimly.
"It's an old story," said Cass, blushing again under the half
mischievous, half searching eyes of the girl. "All Blazing Star knows I
found it.


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