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Dell, Ethel M. (Ethel May), 1881-1939

"The Obstacle Race"

He felt
as if in some fashion wholly inexplicable he had hurt her.
"You're not vexed with me, sweetheart?" he said.
She looked at him still smiling, but her look, her smile, were more
of a veil than a revelation. "With you! What an idea!" she said,
softly mocking.
"Ah, don't!" he said. "I'm not like that, Juliet!"
She held up the cigarette. "Quite ready? Ah, Dick! Don't--don't upset
the boat!"
For the sculls floated loose again in the rowlocks. He had her by the
wrists, the arms, the shoulders. He had her, suddenly and very closely,
against his heart. He covered her face with his kisses, so that she
gasped and gasped for breath, half-laughing, half-dismayed.
"Dick, how--how disgraceful of you! Dick, you mustn't! Someone--someone
will see us!"
"Let them!" he said, grimly reckless. "You brought it on yourself. How
dare you tell me I'm like a high priest? How dare you, Juliet?"
"I daren't," she assured him, her hand against his mouth, restraining
him. "I never will again. You're much more like the great god Pan. There,
now do be good! Please be good! I am sure someone is watching us. I can
feel it in my bones. You're flinging my reputation to the little fishes.


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