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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Frontier Stories"

" She stopped,
locked and interlocked her cold fingers before her, and said,
hesitating and mechanically, "You meant well, Captain Poindexter, in
bringing me here, I know! You must not think that I blame you for it,
or for the miserable result of it that you have just witnessed. But if
I have gained anything by it, for God's sake let me reap it quickly,
that I may give it to these people and go! I have a friend who can aid
me to get to my husband or to my home in Kentucky, where Spencer will
yet find me, I know. I want nothing more." She stopped again. With
another woman the pause would have been one of tears. But she kept her
head above the flood that filled her heart, and the clear eyes fixed
upon Poindexter, albeit pained, were undimmed.
"But this would require time," said Poindexter, with a smile of
compassionate explanation; "you could not sell now, nobody would buy.
You are safe to hold this property while you are in actual possession,
but you are not strong enough to guarantee it to another. There may
still be litigation; your husband has other creditors than these people
you have talked with.


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