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Major, Charles, 1856-1913

"The Touchstone of Fortune"

Father says I need not go to
the tap-room hereafter, but may direct the maids in the house, now that I
am growing old--near twenty."
"Twenty?" I asked. And she nodded her head proudly.
"Yes."
"I thought you were still a child," I remarked.
"No, no," she returned, looking up to me open-eyed and very serious. "I
am a woman."
"Yes, a beautiful child-woman--the most beautiful in all the world," I
said, grasping her hand and holding it a moment till its fluttering
ceased. "And I am jealous of every other man who comes near you."
I saw that my remark had offended her, so I continued earnestly: "I meant
it, Betty; I meant it. I was not jesting."
Betty sighed, looked quickly up to me, half in doubt, half in inquiry,
and was about to speak, but closed her lips on her words and leaned
forward, her head drooping eloquently. Her gentleness, her sweetness, and
her beauty were so tempting that I could not resist their charm. Again I
caught her hand, and it trembled in mine as she tried faintly to withdraw
it. I tried to check myself but failed, and I put my arm about her waist.
Then, after a mighty effort to stay my words, I said pleadingly:--
"Ah, Betty, I love you. Please, please, Betty, believe me, and--and--just
one kiss."
"No, no," she cried pleadingly, trying to draw away from me. "It
could not be honest between us. You are a nobleman--I, a barmaid. Your
friendship is very dear to me.


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