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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Frontier Stories"

Two's company, you know, and
three's none."
"Stop! Will you swear that there isn't a young girl, his--his
sweetheart--concealed there with you?"
The fire in Teresa's eye was genuine as she answered steadily, "Well,
it ain't my style to put up with that sort of thing; at least, it
wasn't over at Yolo, and you know it, Jim Dunn, or I wouldn't be here."
"Yes, yes," said Dunn hurriedly. "But I'm a d----d fool, or worse, the
fool of a fool. Tell me, Teresa, is this man Low your lover?"
Teresa lowered her eyes as if in maidenly confusion.
"Well, if I'd known that _you_ had any feeling of your own about it--if
you'd spoken sooner"--
"Answer me, you devil!"
"He is."
"And he has been with you here--yesterday--tonight?"
"He has."
"Enough." He laughed a weak, foolish laugh, and turning pale, suddenly
lapsed against a tree. He would have fallen, but with a quick instinct
Teresa sprang to his side, and supported him gently to a root. The
action over they both looked astounded.
"I reckon that wasn't much like either you or me," said Dunn slowly,
"was it? But if you'd let me drop then you'd have stretched out the
biggest fool in the Sierras.


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