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Hurst, Fannie, 1889-1968

"The Vertical City"


"You said you were--"
"I _said_ I was. Yes. But I came back unexpectedly, didn't I?"
"Y-yes, Red?"
"Look at me!"
She raised round and ready-to-be-terrified eyes.
"Murphy was here last night!" he cracked at her,
bang-bang-bang-bang-bang, like so many pistol shots.
"Why, Red--I--You--"
"Don't lie. Murphy was here last night! I saw him leave this morning as
I came in."
It was hazard, pure and simple. Not even a wild one, because all
too easily he could kiss down what would be sure to be only her
half-flattered resentment.
But there was a cigar stub on the table edge, and certain of her
adjustments of the room when he entered had been rather quick. He could
be like that with her, crazily the slave of who knows what beauty he
found in her; jealous of even an unaccountable inflection in her voice.
There had been unmentionable frenzies of elemental anger between them
and she feared and exulted in these strange poles of his nature.
"Murphy was here last night!"
It had happened, in spite of a caution worthy of a finer finesse than
hers, and suddenly she seemed to realize the quality of her fear for him
to whom she was everything and who to her was not all.


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