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Rinehart, Mary Roberts, 1876-1958

"Dangerous Days"

They were desperate, vindictive
eyes. Suddenly Natalie was pleading with her.
"You'll talk to Clay, won't you? He'll listen to you. He has a
lot of respect for your opinion. I want you to go to him, Audrey.
I brought you here to ask you. I'm almost out of my mind. Why do
you suppose I play around with Rodney? I've got to forget, that's
all. And I've tried everything I know, and failed. He'll go, and
I'll lose him, and if I do it will kill me."
"It doesn't follow that because he goes he won't come back."
"He'll be in danger. I shall be worrying about him every moment."
She threw out her hands in what was as unrestrained a gesture as
she ever made. "Look at me!" she cried. "I'm getting old under
it. I have lines about my eyes already. I hate to look at myself
in the morning. And I'm not old. I ought to be at my best now."
Natalie's anxiety was for Graham, but her pity was for herself.
Audrey's heart hardened.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I can't go to Clay.


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