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Wharton, Edith, 1862-1937

"Summer"

"
She moved toward the door as she spoke, and he stood up and placed
himself between her and the threshold. He seemed suddenly tall and
strong, as though the extremity of his humiliation had given him new
vigour.
"That's all, is it? It's not much." He leaned against the door, so
towering and powerful that he seemed to fill the narrow room. "Well,
then look here.... You're right: I've no claim on you--why should you
look at a broken man like me? You want the other fellow... and I don't
blame you. You picked out the best when you seen it... well, that was
always my way." He fixed his stern eyes on her, and she had the sense
that the struggle within him was at its highest. "Do you want him to
marry you?" he asked.
They stood and looked at each other for a long moment, eye to eye, with
the terrible equality of courage that sometimes made her feel as if she
had his blood in her veins.
"Do you want him to--say? I'll have him here in an hour if you do. I
ain't been in the law thirty years for nothing.


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