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Connor, Ralph, Pseudonym, 1860-1937

"Corporal Cameron of the North West Mounted Police; a tale of the Macleod trail"

But there was
no need for words; his eyes spoke for his faltering lips. A look of fear
leaped to her eyes, a flow of red blood to her cheeks; then she stood,
white, trembling and silent.
"I am tired, I think," she said after a moment's silence, "we will go
back."
"Yes, you are tired," said Cameron angrily. "You are tired to death.
Mandy, you need some one to take care of you. I wish you would let me."
They were now walking back toward the town.
"They are all good to me; they are all kind to me." Her voice was quiet
and steady. She had gained control of herself again. "Why, even John the
Chinaman," she added with a laugh, "spoils me. Oh, no harm can come to
me--I have no fear!"
"But," said Cameron, "I--I want to take care of you, Mandy. I want the
right to take care of you, always."
"I know, I know," she said kindly. "You are so good; you were always so
good; but I need no one."
Cameron glanced at the lithe, strong, upright figure striding along
beside him with easy grace; and the truth came to him in swift and
painful revelation.
"You are right," he said as if to himself. "You need no one, and you
don't need me."
"But," she cried eagerly, "it was good of you all the same."
"Good!" he said impatiently. "Good! Nonsense! I tell you, Mandy, I want
you, I want you.


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