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Hurst, Fannie, 1889-1968

"The Vertical City"

"
"I reckon she's considerable over sixteen now. Let's see--"
Fire bells. Fire bells.
"Come out with what you want, Morton, like a man! You're feeling
for something. Money? Now that your mother is dead and her fortune
squandered, you've come to harass me? That's it! I know you, like a
person who has been disfigured for life by burns knows fire. Well, I
won't pay!"
"Pay? Why, Hattie--I want you--back--"
She could have cried because, as she sat there blackly, she was sick
with his lie.
"I'd save a dog from you."
"Then save--her--from me."
The terrible had happened so quietly. Morton had not raised his voice;
scarcely his lips.
She closed the door then and sat down once more, but that which had
crouched out of their talk was unleashed now.
"That's just exactly what I intend to do."
"How?"
"By saving her sight or sound of you."
"You can't, Hattie."
"Why?"
"I've come back." There was a curve to his words that hooked into her
heart like forceps about a block of ice.


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