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Rinehart, Mary Roberts, 1876-1958

"Dangerous Days"

It didn't hurt anybody for us to meet now and
then, Clay. You know that. I wish you would understand," she
added impatiently. "I only want to go back to things as they were.
I want you to come in now and then. We used to talk about all
sorts of things, and I miss that. Plenty of people come, but that's
different. It's only your occasional companionship I want. I don't
want you to come and make love to me."
"You say you have missed the companionship," he said rather
unsteadily. "I wonder if you think I haven't?"
"I know you have, my dear. And that is why I want you to come. To
come without being afraid that I expect or want anything else.
Surely we can manage that."
He smiled down at her, rather wryly, at her straight courageous
figure, her brave eyes, meeting his so directly. How like her it
all was, the straightforwardness of it, the absence of coquetry.
And once again he knew, not only that he loved her with all the
depths of him, of his strong body and his vigorous mind, but that
she was his woman.


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