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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Beth Norvell A Romance of the West"


"Go!" The word was like the spat of a bullet.
"But, Lizzie--"
"Go, you cur! or, as God is my witness, if you stay I'll kill you!"
With a sharp dig of the spur his horse sprang half-way across the road,
a black, prancing shadow against the glare of light. She saw the rider
fling up one arm, and bring down the stinging quirt on the animal's
flank; the next instant, with a bound, they were swallowed up in the
darkness. A moment she leaned against the shack, nerveless, half
fainting from reaction, her face deathly white. Then she inhaled a
long, deep breath, gathered her skirts closely within one hand, and
plunged boldly into the black alley.


CHAPTER XIII
TWO WOMEN
Mercedes stood in the shade of the towering hillside, the single beam
of light shining from an uncurtained window alone faintly revealing her
slenderness of figure in its red drapery. No other gleam anywhere
cleft the prevailing darkness of the night, and the only perceptible
sound was that of horses' hoofs dying away in the distance.


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