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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"The Goose Girl"

You can't remember? Think!" tensely now.
"What's all this nonsense about?" she cried, with a nervous laugh. "It's
only a scar."
She went on with the kneading. She patted the dough into four squares.
These she placed on the oven-stove. She wiped her hands on a cloth for
that purpose, and sighed contentedly.
"There! It's a fine mystery, isn't it?"
"Yes." But Grumbach was shaking as with ague.
"What is the matter, Herr?" with concern.
"I grow dizzy like this sometimes. It doesn't amount to anything."
Gretchen turned down her sleeves. "You must go now, for I have other
work."
"And so have I, Gretchen."
He gained the street, but how he never knew. He floated. Objects near at
hand were shadowy and unusual. A great calm suddenly winged down upon
him, and the world became clear, clear as his purpose, his courage, his
duty. They might shoot or hang him, as they saw fit; this would not
deter him. It might be truthfully said that he blundered back to the
Grand Hotel. He must lay the whole matter before Carmichael. There lay
his one hope. Carmichael should be his ambassador. But, God in Heaven,
where should he begin? How?
The Gipsy, standing in the center of the walk, did not see Grumbach, for
he was looking toward the palaces, a kind of whimsical mockery in his
dark eyes.


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