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Bower, B. M., 1871-1940

"Good Indian"

You said it with your lips, and
with your eyes. Did you want more words? Tell me what it is
that bothers you."
There was a droop to Evadna's shoulders, and a tremble to her
mouth. She would not look at him. She kept her eyes gazing
downward, perhaps to hide tears. Good Indian waited for her to
speak, and when it seemed plain that she did not mean to do so,
he yielded to his instinct and took her in his arms.
"Sweetheart!" he murmured against her ear, and it was the first
time he had ever spoken the word to any woman. "You love me, I
know it. You won't say it, but I know you do. I should have
felt it this morning if you hadn't cared. You--you let me kiss
you. And--"
"And after that you--you rode off and left me--and you went away
by yourself, just as if--just as if nothing had happened, and
you've acted ever since as if--" She bit her lips, turned her
face away from him, plucked at his hands to free herself from his
clasping arms, and then she laid her face down against him, and
sobbed.


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