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Widdemer, Margaret, 1884-1978

"The Wishing-Ring Man"

And--and I didn't know I
was going to dance anyway. I didn't know I could!"
He looked down at her again, apparently to see whether she was in
earnest, holding her off for a moment as they danced.
She hoped he would deny that he preferred being with Gail, but he
did not.
"We are going through our month of relationship _right_," he
told her definitely, smiling, but looking down at her with the
steady, steel-colored light in his gray eyes that she knew meant "no
appeal." "Gail does not enter into it at all. But I admit that
Rutherford's quickness put me in the wrong."
"If only," thought Joy, acutely conscious of his firm hold, "instead
of laying down the law that way, he would let go and admit that he
was angry!" For he certainly was, and it wasn't at all her fault,
unless going where Clarence took her was a crime. John _hadn't_
thought of dancing first. Was he the kind of person who always
thought he was right even when he knew he wasn't? If so, maybe a
month _was_ long enough.... But the thought of the end of the
month hurt, no matter how unreasonable she tried to think John, and
she threw down her arms--the only way, if she had known, to make
John throw down his.
"Are you angry at me?" she half whispered. "I--please don't be
angry. Nobody ever was, and I don't want to be silly, but I don't
believe I could stand it."
He swept her rhythmically on, but she could feel his arm relax and
hold her more warmly, and his wonderful gray eyes softened again as
they looked into hers.


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