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London, Jack, 1876-1916

"The God of His Fathers: Tales of the Klondyke"

"I have been running
over the men I know and reached the conclusion that--that--"
"I was the likeliest of the lot?"
She smiled her gratitude for his having saved her the embarrassment of
confession. He drew her head against his shoulder with the free hand,
and somehow the scent of her hair got into his nostrils. Then he
discovered that a common pulse throbbed, throbbed, throbbed, where their
palms were in contact. This phenomenon is easily comprehensible from a
physiological standpoint, but to the man who makes the discovery for the
first time, it is a most wonderful thing. Floyd Vanderlip had caressed
more shovel-handles than women's hands in his time, so this was an
experience quite new and delightfully strange. And when Freda turned her
head against his shoulder, her hair brushing his cheek till his eyes met
hers, full and at close range, luminously soft, ay, and tender--why,
whose fault was it that he lost his grip utterly? False to Flossie, why
not to Loraine? Even if the women did keep bothering him, that was no
reason he should make up his mind in a hurry. Why, he had slathers of
money, and Freda was just the girl to grace it.


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