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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The Courage of Marge O'Doone"

But I know they are lying. It is for Tara." Suddenly her fingers
clutched tightly at his hand, and for the first time he saw under her
long, shimmering lashes the darkening fire of a real terror. "Why do I
belong to Brokaw?" she asked again, a little tremble in her voice. "Why
did Hauck say that? Can--can a man--buy a girl?"
The nails of her slender fingers were pricking his flesh. David did not
feel their hurt.
"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "Did that
man--Hauck--sell you?"
He looked away from her as he asked the question. He was afraid, just
then, that something was in his face which he did not want her to see.
He began to understand; at least he was beginning to picture a very
horrible possibility.
"I--don't--know," he heard her say, close to his shoulder. "It was night
before last I heard them quarrelling, and I crept close to a door that
was a little open, and looked in. Brokaw had given my uncle a bag of
gold, a little sack, like the miners use, and I heard him swear at my
uncle, and say: 'That's more than she is worth but I'll give in. _Now_
she's mine!' I don't know why it frightened me so. It wasn't Brokaw. I
guess it was the terrible look in that man's face--my uncle's.


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