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Bates, Arlo, 1850-1918

"The Puritans"

I've only been holding off
until he had that thing written for the Churchman. Now I've got that,
I'll settle him."
"Oh, the gratitude of women!"
"Why, it isn't that. He needn't be smirking at me the way he does. I
simply won't stand it. Besides, he makes eyes at me wherever I go, just
to advertise the fact that he's silly about me. He's a cad, through and
through. Would you come here as he does if I refused to invite your
wife?"
Chauncy Wilson laughed again, leaning forward to knock the ashes out of
his pipe.
"He's a fool, fast enough; and I dare say you're tired of his beastly
spooning; but all the same, the real reason for this circus is that you
want to amuse yourself."
She drew up her head in mock dignity.
"Of course," she returned, "if my own husband does not appreciate how I
resent"--She broke off in a burst of laughter. "Nobody ever understood
me but you, Chauncy," she cried. "Good-by. It's time I took the stage."
She threw him a kiss, and went to the drawing-room. Looking at her
watch, she placed herself behind the curtains of a window which
commanded the avenue. Presently she espied her victim, and with a last
glance around to assure herself that everything was as she wished it to
be, she mounted to the top of the piano.


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