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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"The Puppet Crown"

"
Maurice did not laugh as she expected he would. As she observed
the thoughtful frown between his brows, a shiver of dread ran
through her. It did not take long to cover the intervening mile.
They turned, and the horses fell into a quick step.
"Now, Monsieur; please!"
After all . . . But he quelled the gentle tremor in his heart. A
month ago, had he known her, he might now have told her
altogether a different story. He could see that she had not an
inkling of what was to come (for he had determined to tell her);
and he vaguely wondered if he should bring humiliation to the
dainty creature. It would be like nicking a porcelain cup. Her
brows were arched inquisitively and her lips puckered. . . .He
had had a narrow escape.
He drew the message from his breast, leaned across and handed it
to her.
"Why, what is this, Monsieur?"
"Read it and see" And he busied himself with the tangled mane of
his horse. When they had ridden several yards, he heard her
voice.
"Here, Monsieur" The hand was extended, but the face was averted.
"Countess, you are too charming a woman to lend yourself to such
schemes.


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