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Nance Olden's not a coward when she's fighting for her freedom; and fighting alone without any sympathizing friend to weaken her. He returned the look with interest. "I may know more," he said insinuatingly. "Possibly." I shrugged my shoulders. No, it wasn't put on. There never yet was a man who bullied me that didn't rouse the fighter in me.
Tom, to oblige a friend of Miss Olden's; but I must insist that he does not talk like a farmer." He was quite close to Tom when he finished, and Tom was glaring up at him. And, Mag, I didn't know which one I was most afraid for. Don't you look at me that way, Mag Monahan, and don't you dare to guess anything!
The sight of Obermuller, with those keen, quick eyes behind his glasses, his strong, square chin, and the whole poise of his head and body that makes men wait to hear what he has to say; the knowledge that that man was my friend, mine Nancy Olden's lifted me out of the mud I'd sunk back in, and put my feet again on a level with his. "Tom," I said slowly, "Mr. Obermuller is a friend of mine.
How to get that diamond! There was a hard nut for Nance Olden's sharp teeth to crack. I only wanted that never say I'm greedy, Mag Gray could keep all the rest of the things the pigeon in rubies and pearls, the tiara all in diamonds, the chain of pearls, and the blazing rings, and the waist-trimming all of emeralds and diamond stars.
Nothing I could think of gave me any comfort. I tried to fancy myself coming home to you. I tried to see myself going down to tell the whole thing to Obermuller. But I couldn't do that. There was only one thing I wanted to say to Fred Obermuller, and that thing I couldn't say now. But Nance Olden's not the girl to go round long like a molting hen.
Well this is the rest of it. The house, you know, stands at the end of the street. If you could walk through the garden with the iron fence you'd come right down the bluff on to the docks and out into East River. Tom and I came up to it from the docks last night. It was dark and wet, you remember. The mud was thick on my trousers Nance Olden's a boy every time when it comes to doing business.
Besides, you haven't got the acquaintance in high society that Nance Olden can boast. + + | Mrs. Oh Mag! Shame on you not to know the name even of the Bishop of the great state of yes, the lean, short little Bishop with a little white beard, and the softest eye and the softest heart and my very own Bishop, Nancy Olden's Bishop. And this was his wife. Tut tut, Mag! Of course not.
And Kitty I love a generous thief was treating the gang. It helped itself from her abundant lap; it munched and gobbled and asked for more. It was a riot of a high old time. Even the birds were hopping about as near as they dared, picking up the crumbs, and the squirrels had peanuts to throw to the birds. And all on Nancy Olden's money! I laughed till I shook. It was good to laugh.
It rose up there and hit me right over the heart the memory of Nancy Olden's happiness the first time she'd come in this very door, feeling that she actually had a right to use a stage: entrance, feeling that she belonged, she Nancy to this wonderland of the stage! You must never tell Tom, Mag, promise! He wouldn't see. He couldn't understand.
Say, Mag, I wouldn't like to get that man Obermuller hopping mad at me, and Nancy Olden's no coward, either. But the way he gritted his teeth at that note and the devil in his eyes when he lifted them from it, made me wonder how I'd ever dared be facetious with him. I got up to go. He'd forgotten me, but he looked up then.
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