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Lynde, Francis, 1856-1930

"The Taming of Red Butte Western"


"Listen a moment, all of you," she called. "We mustn't forget that this
isn't a planned excursion for us; it's a business trip for Mr.
Lidgerwood, and we are here by our own invitation. We must make
ourselves small, accordingly, and not bother him. _Savez vous?_"
Van Lew laughed, spread his long arms, and swept them all out toward the
rear platform. But Miss Eleanor escaped at the door and went back to
Lidgerwood.
"There, now!" she whispered, "don't ever say that I can't do the really
handsome thing when I try. Can you manage to work at all, with these
chatterers on the car?"
She was steadying herself against the swing of the car, with one shapely
hand on the edge of the desk, and he covered it with one of his own.
"Yes, I can work," he asserted. "The one thing impossible is not to love
you, Eleanor. It's hard enough when you are unkind; you mustn't make it
harder by being what you used always to be to me."
"What a lover you are when you forget to be self-conscious!" she said
softly; none the less she freed the imprisoned hand with a hasty little
jerk.


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