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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Beth Norvell A Romance of the West"


"W-well, Mercedes," he stuttered, unable to restrain himself, "wh-what
is it?"
She lifted her lowered head ever so slightly, so that he saw her
profile, the flush on the cheek turned toward him.
"Maybe eet better you stay, senor. Anyhow, I no vant you go just now."
For once he proved the more swift of the two, clasping her instantly
within his arms, drawing her slender form close against him with a
strength he failed to realize in that sudden excess of passion.
Holding her thus in helpless subjection he flung aside the obstructing
veil of hair, and covered the flushed cheeks with kisses. The next
moment, breathless, but not with indignation, the girl had pushed his
burning face aside, although she still lay quivering within the
remorseless clasp of his arms.
"I no said all dat, senor; I no said all dat. You so ver' strong, you
hurt Mercedes. Please, senor--eet vas not dat I meant eet should be
dis vay--no, no. I no said I lofe you; I just say stay till maybe I
know vich--please, senor.


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