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Tarkington, Booth, 1869-1946

"The Gentleman from Indiana"

"Don't say you are ashamed of it. Do you
suppose I do not understand the dreariness it has been for you? Don't you
know that I see it is a horror to you, that it brings back your struggle
with those beasts in the dark, and revivifies all your suffering, merely
to think of it?" Her turns and sudden contradictions left him tangled in
a maze; he could not follow, but must sit helpless to keep pace with her,
while the sheer happiness of being with her tingled through his veins. She
rose and took a step aside, then spoke again: "Well, since you want to
leave Carlow, you shall; since you do not wish to return, you need not.--
Are you laughing at me?" She leaned toward him, and looked at him
steadily, with her face close to his. He was not laughing; his eyes shone
with a deep fire; in that nearness he hardly comprehended what she said.
"Thank you for not laughing," she whispered, and leaned back from him. "I
suppose you think my promises are quite wild, and they are. I do not know
what I was talking about, or what I meant, any better than you do. You may
understand some day. It is all--I mean that it hurts one to hear you say
you do not care for Carlow." She turned away. "Come."
"Where?"
"It is my turn to conclude the interview. You remember, the last time it
was you who--" She broke off, shuddering, and covered her face with her
hands.


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