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London, Jack, 1876-1916

"The Son of the Wolf"

We will forget the world and be happy, very happy.
It is good, most good. Come! Let us hurry. Let us go back to
Akatan." And she ran her hand through his yellow hair, and
smiled in a way which was not good. And there was no promise in
her eyes.
'I sat silent, and marveled at the strangeness of woman. I went
back to the night when he dragged her from me and she screamed
and tore at his hair--at his hair which now she played with and
would not leave. Then I remembered the price and the long years
of waiting; and I gripped her close, and dragged her away as he
had done. And she held back, even as on that night, and fought
like a she-cat for its whelp. And when the fire was between us
and the man. I loosed her, and she sat and listened. And I told
her of all that lay between, of all that had happened to me on
strange seas, of all that I had done in strange lands; of my
weary quest, and the hungry years, and the promise which had been
mine from the first. Aye, I told all, even to what had passed
that day between the man and me, and in the days yet young. And
as I spoke I saw the promise grow in her eyes, full and large
like the break of dawn. And I read pity there, the tenderness of
woman, the love, the heart and the soul of Unga.


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