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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"The Call of the Canyon"

. . . Come here."
He fastened one of his great hands in the front of her coat and gave her a
pull. So powerful was it that Carley came hard against him, almost knocking
her breathless. There he held her a moment and then put his other arm round
her. It seemed to crush both breath and sense out of her. Suddenly limp,
she sank strengthless. She seemed reeling in darkness. Then she felt herself
thrust away from him with violence. She sank on the couch and her head and
shoulders struck the wall.
"Say, if you're a-goin' to keel over like thet I pass," declared Ruff, in
disgust. "Can't you Eastern wimmin stand nothin?"
Carley's eyes opened and beheld this man in an attitude of supremely
derisive protest.
"You look like a sick kitten," he added. "When I get me a sweetheart or
wife I want her to be a wild cat."
His scorn and repudiation of her gave Carley intense relief. She sat up and
endeavored to collect her shattered nerves. Ruff gazed down at her with
great disapproval and even disappointment.
"Say, did you have some fool idee I was a-goin' to kill you?" he queried,
gruffly.
"I'm afraid--I did," faltered Carley. Her relief was a release; it was so
strange that it was gratefulness.


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