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Hornung, E. W. (Ernest William), 1866-1921

"The Shadow of the Rope"

Another would have dropped it;
with Steel there was not so much as a rattle of the things, but his
color changed, and Rachel had not yet had such a look as he gave her
with his pursed mouth and his flashing eyes.
"What does this mean?" he demanded, in the tone of distant thunder, with
little less than lightning in his glance.
"I think that's for me to ask," laughed Rachel, standing up to him with
a nerve that surprised herself. "I didn't know that you began so early!"
A decanter and a glass were among the things upon the tray.
"And I didn't know it of you," he retorted. "Why are you up?"
Rachel told him the simple truth in simple fashion. His tone of voice
did not hurt her; there was no opposite extreme of tenderness to call to
mind for the contrast which inflicts the wound. On the other hand, there
was a certain satisfaction in having for once ruffled that smooth mien
and smoother tongue; it was one of her rare glimpses of the real man,
but as usual it was a glimpse and nothing more.
"I must apologize," said Steel, with an artificiality which was seldom
so transparent; "my only excuse is that you startled me out of my temper
and my manners.


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