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Sabatini, Rafael, 1875-1950

"The Snare"

"Ned, there is only
one thing to be done."
He looked down at her who was only a little less tall than himself,
and the colour faded from his own face now.
"You haven't understood me after all," he said. "I was afraid you
would not. I have no clear gift of words, and if I had, I am trying
to say something that would overtax any gift."
"On the contrary, Ned, I understand you perfectly. I don't think
I have ever understood you until now. Certainly never until now
could I be sure of what I hoped."
"Of what you hoped?" His voice sank as if in awe. "What?" he asked.
She looked away, and her persisting, yet ever-changing smile grew
slightly arch.
"You do not then intend to ask me to marry you?" she said.
"How could I?" It was an explosion almost of anger. "You yourself
suggested that it would be an insult; and so it would. It is to
take advantage of the position into which your foolish generosity
has betrayed you. Oh!" he clenched his fists and shook them a moment
at his sides.
"Very well," she said. "In that case I must ask you to marry me."
"You?" He was thunderstruck.
"What alternative do you leave me? You say that I have destroyed
my good name. You must provide me with a new one.


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