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Smith, Francis Hopkinson, 1838-1915

"The Under Dog"


"You don't mean--" A cold chill suddenly developed near the roots of my
hair and trickled to my spine.
"Well, she's too good-lookin' to be wanderin' round huntin' for a
boardin'-house. You see her on the train, that's all. Starts at eight
to-night. That's the one they all go by--those who git out and can raise
the money. She ought to leave now, 'cordin' to the regulations, but as
long as you're a friend of Mr. Marny's I'll keep her here in the office
till I go home at seven o'clock. Then you'd better have someone to look
after her. No, you needn't go back and see her"--this in answer to a
movement I made toward the prison door. "I'll fix everything. Mr. Marny
knows me."
I thanked the Sergeant, and we started for the air outside--something we
could breathe, something with a sky overhead and the dear earth
underfoot, something the sun warmed and the free wind cooled.
Only one thing troubled me now. I could not take the girl to the train
myself, neither could Marny, for I had promised to lecture that same
night for the Art Club at eight o'clock, and Marny was to introduce me.


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