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Dangerous Days

Page 148

"Sorry, Marion," he muttered. "I didn't mean all that. I'm excited.

That's all."

When he sat down beside her again and tried to take her hand, she drew

it away.

"You've been very cruel, Graham," she said. "I've been selfish. Every

girl who is terribly in love is selfish. I am going to give you your

ring, and leave you free to do whatever you want."

Her generosity overcame him. He was instantly ashamed, humbled.

"Don't!" he begged. "Don't let me go. I'll just go to the dogs. If you

really care?"

"Care!" she said softly. And as he buried his head in her lap she

stroked his hair softly. Her eyes, triumphant, surveyed the long room,

with its satin-paneled walls, its French furniture, its long narrow

gilt-framed mirrors softening the angles of the four corners.

Some day all this would be hers. For this she would exchange the untidy

and imitation elegance of her present setting.

She stroked the boy's head absently.

Graham made an attempt to free himself the next day. He was about to

move his office to the new plant, and he made a determination not to

take Anna with him.

He broke it to her as gently as he could.

"Mr. Weaver is taking my place here," he said, avoiding her eyes.

"Yes, Graham."

"He'll--there ought to be some one here who knows the ropes."

"Do you mean me?"

"Well, you know them, don't you?" He had tried to smile at her.

"Do you mean that you are going to have another secretary at the plant?"

"Look here, Anna," he said impulsively. "You know things can't go on

indefinitely, the way we are now. You know it, don't you."

She looked down and nodded.

"Well, don't you think I'd better leave you here?"

She fumbled nervously with her wrist-watch.

"I won't stay here if you go," she said finally. "I hate Mr. Weaver. I'm

afraid of him. I--oh, don't leave me, Graham. Don't. I haven't anybody

but you. I haven't any home--not a real home. You ought to see him these

days." She always referred to her father as "him." "He's dreadful. I'm

only happy when I'm here with you."

He was angry, out of sheer despair.

"I've told you," he said. "Things can't go on as they are. You know well

enough what I mean. I'm older than you are, Anna. God knows I don't

want any harm to come to you through me. But, if we continue to be

together--"

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