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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"The Hollow of Her Hand"

"
She was perfectly still for a long time, so still that she did
not appear to be breathing. Her eyes grew darker, more mysterious.
If he had taken the pains to notice, he would have seen that her
fingers were rigid.
"I AM pleased," she said, very softly, even gently.
She could have shrieked the words.
He showed no elation. Why should he? He took it as a matter of
course. Settling back in his chair, he lit another cigarette, first
offering the case to her, but she shook her head. Then he lapsed
into a satisfied discussion of the situation as it appeared to him.
All the while she was regarding him with a thoroughly aroused light
in her dark eyes. She was breathing quickly again, and there were
moments when she felt a shudder rush through her veins, as of
exquisite excitement.
How she hated all these smug Wrandalls!
"I came to the decision yesterday," he went on, tapping the arm of
the chair with his finger tips, as if timing his words with care
and precision. "Spoke to dad about it at lunch. I was for coming
out on the five o'clock, as I'd planned, but he seemed to think
I'd better talk it over with the mater first. Not that she would
be likely to kick up a row, you know, but--well, for policy's sake.
See what I mean? Decent thing to do, you know. She never quite got
over the way you and Chal stole a march on her.


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