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Glasgow, Ellen Anderson Gholson, 1873-1945

"The Battle Ground"


"And you will really force me to tell you?" she asked.
"For your own sake, don't let it come to that," he replied.
"But are you sure that you are strong enough to hear it?"
"I am strong enough for anything," he assured her, "except suspense."
"Well, if I must, then let me whisper it--I went because--" she drew back,
"I implore you not to uproot the forest in your wrath."
"Speak quickly," urged Dan, impatiently.
"I went because--brace yourself--I went because he asked me."
"O Betty!" he cried, and caught her hand.
"O Dan!" she laughed, and drew her hand away.
"You deserve to be whipped," he went on sternly. "How dare you play with
the green-eyed monster I'm wearing on my sleeve? Haven't you heard his
growls, madam?"
"He's a pretty monster," said Betty. "I should like to pat him."
"Oh, he needs to be gently stroked, I tell you."
"Does he wake often--poor monster?"
Dan lowered his abashed eyes to the road.
"Well, that--ah, that depends--" he began awkwardly.
"Ah, that depends upon your fancies," finished Betty, and rode on rapidly.
It was a moment before he came up with her, and when he did so his face was
flushed.
"Do you mind about my fancies, Betty?" he asked humbly.
"I?" said Betty, disdainfully. "Why, what have I to do with them?"
"With my fancies? nothing--so help me God--nothing."
"I am glad to hear it," she replied quietly, stroking her horse. Her cheeks
were glowing and she let the overhanging branches screen her face.


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