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Lloyd, Nelson, 1873-1933

"The Soldier of the Valley"


"Why did you say flirt?" he asked quietly.
"She promised to marry me," I said.
"Yes."
"She loved you, Tim."
"Yes--and how did you know it?"
"Perry Thomas saw you that night when you went to stay a minute."
The color left Tim's face and he leaned back in his chair, away from
the light into the shadow, and whistled softly.
"You knew it, then," he said, after a long while. "I didn't intend you
should, Mark. I didn't intend you ever should."
"Naturally," said I in an icy tone.
"Naturally," said he. His face came into the light again, and he
leaned there on the table, watching me as earnestly as ever.
"Naturally," he said again. "I was going away, Mark, never to bother
you nor her. Did I know then that you loved her? Had you ever told
me? Was I to blame for that moment when I knew I loved the girl and
that she loved me?"
"No. I never told you--that's true," I said.
"And yet I knew you cared for her, Mark. I could see that. I saw it
all those nights when you would leave me to go plodding up the hill.


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