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The Iron Furrow by George C. (George Clifford) Shedd
page 82 of 295 (27%)

"Immensely."

"Then they shall stay there. And Imo will die of envy when I tell her
they're yours."

"Nobody ever died of that."

"Perhaps not. But she will suffer extremely. You didn't even put bean
plants in her hat."

Lee was highly amused at this raillery. He began to walk forward by
her side as she moved away from the spot, now addressing her, now
listening to her words, in a desire to stretch the last minute to the
uttermost. Her head came just even with his shoulder, so that she had
to raise her face to gaze at him when he spoke, and in the act there
was something simple, winning, blithe, as likewise in the swing of her
lissom figure beside his own there was an inimitable jauntiness and
cheer. He divined her eager, ardent spirit; and the closeness of her,
this comradeship, set his blood humming.

Abruptly he halted, laying a finger on her arm.

"I mustn't go the whole way, you know," he said, "though I should like
to. For, by heavens, you've opened my eyes! Didn't realize how
satiated with myself I'd become. But I'll make up for that now, Miss
Ruth, and it won't be very long before you and your friend will be
planning how to rid yourselves of me."

"Just try us and see," she exclaimed.
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