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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Beth Norvell A Romance of the West"

Suddenly a hand
gripped her extended wrist, and she gazed for a startled instant into
fiercely burning eyes, her own heart throbbing with nervous excitement.
"Vat vas he to you? Answer me! Answer me quick!"
The blood came back into her blanched cheeks with a sudden rush of
anger. Instantly indignation swept back the mists of fear. With
unnatural strength she wrenched free her captured hand, and sternly
fronted the other, a barely recognized shadow in the gloom.
"Permit me to pass," she exclaimed, clearly. "How dare you hide here
to halt me?"
The other exhibited her teeth, gleaming white and savage behind parted
lips, yet she never stirred.
"Dare? Pah! you vaste time to talk so," she cried brokenly, her voice
trembling from passion. "You no such fine lady now, senorita. You see
dis knife; I know how use eet quick. Bah! you go to him like all de
rest, but I vill know de truth first, if I have to cut eet out you. So
vat ees de Senor Farnham to you? Say quick!"
The American remained silent, motionless, her breath quickening under
the threat, her eyes striving to see clearly the face of the one
confronting her.


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