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Lincoln, Joseph Crosby, 1870-1944

"Shavings"

What are you trying to get at, Jed?"
"Get at?"
"Yes. Why did you ask that question about Ruth and Barbara? You
don't mean that you see a way out for me, do you?"
"W-e-e-ll, I . . . er . . . I don't cal'late I'd want to go so far
as to say that, hardly. No-o, I don't know's it's a way out--
quite. But, as I've told you I've been thinkin' about you and Maud
a pretty good deal lately and . . . er . . . hum . . ."
"For heaven's sake, hurry up! Don't go to sleep now, man, of all
times. Tell me, what do you mean? What can I do?"
Jed's foot dropped to the floor. He sat erect and regarded his
companion intently over his spectacles. His face was very grave.
"There's one thing you can do, Charlie," he said.
"What is it? Tell me, quick."
"Just a minute. Doin' it won't mean necessarily that you're out of
your worries and troubles. It won't mean that you mustn't make a
clean breast of everything to Maud and to Sam. That you must do
and I know, from what you've said to me, that you feel you must.
And it won't mean that your doin' this thing will necessarily make
either Maud or Sam say yes to the question you want to ask 'em.
That question they'll answer themselves, of course. But, as I see
it, if you do this thing you'll be free and independent, a man
doin' a man's job and ready to speak to Sam Hunniwell or anybody
else LIKE a man.


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