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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Beth Norvell A Romance of the West"

He knows it all, I say, because the desertion was his, not
mine; and his present deliberate, cowardly attempt to besmirch my
character by doing an injury to another is an unbearable insult, an
outrage more serious than if he had struck me a physical blow. The one
I might forgive, as I have before forgiven, but the other is beyond the
limits of pardon, if I would retain my own self-respect. I am a woman,
an honorable woman, and my reputation is more to me than life."
She paused, breathing heavily, her head flung back, Her hands clenched
as though in desperate effort at self-control.
"You--you!" the words seemed fairly forced from between her lips,
"there has never been a time when I would not have gone to you at a
word, at your slightest expressed desire. However I may have despised
you in my secret heart, I remained loyal outwardly, and would have gone
to you in response to the call of duty. There is no such duty now.
You have openly insulted and degraded me; you have accused me before
the world; you have dragged my name in the muck; you have attempted to
dethrone my womanhood.


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