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Harrison, Henry Sydnor, 1880-1930

"Queed"

"I see that you are already
provided. Shall we not go up?"
Laughing, he plucked a red, red rose from his buttonhole and jammed it
carelessly in his pocket.
"Give it to me."
"Why, it's of no consequence. Flowers quickly fade."
"Won't you understand?... you maddening lady. I've known all these girls
since they were born. When they offer me flowers, shall I hurt their
feelings and refuse? Give it to me."
She shook her head slowly.
"Don't you know that I'll prize it--and why?" said he in a low voice.
"Give it to me."
Their eyes met; hers fluttered down; but she raised them suddenly and
put the flower in his buttonhole, her face so close that he felt her
breath on his cheek.
Beside him at supper, she took up the thread of their earlier talk.
"If you must give up your business, why shouldn't it be for something
bigger than the college--public life for instance?"
"I may say," West answered her, "that as yet there has not been that
sturdy demand from the public, that uproarious insistence from the
honest voter ..."
"At dinner the other evening I met one of your fine old patriarchs,
Colonel Cowles.


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