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Updated: June 29, 2025
Collins, who, laid up in the swamp, was to have reaped my gold and me if I got through! The cheek of him made me blaze again, and I turned on Paulette abruptly. "Look here, do you know you shot a man in the swamp?" "I hope I killed him," returned that same girl who had disliked being cruel to wolves, and instantly saw what I was after. "That's nonsense, though!
"Because I know I've seen her before," Marcia returned calmly, "only with no 'Paulette Brown' tacked on to her. I've seen her dance somewhere, but I can't think where and that's the first thing that puzzles me." "I don't see why," I said disagreeably, "considering that every one dances somewhere all day long just now." "It wasn't that kind of dancing. It was rather wonderful!
Probably Rosalie spoke to Paulette Dubois more often than did any one else in the parish, but that was because the woman came for little things at the shop, and asked for letters, and every week sent one to a man living in Montreal. She sent these letters, but not more than once in six months did she get a reply, and she had not had one in a whole year.
I might have been sick anywhere else. I was fierce with joy out there in Lac Tremblant, running with a girl over the thin crust under which death lurked to snatch at us, as it had snatched at Macartney's men. Neither of us spoke. I was thinking too hard. I could have run indefinitely as we were running, but Paulette was just a girl.
Another source of interest to the boys was for Mr Ross to invite in some intelligent old Indian, like Memotas, Big Tom, Mustagan, Kinesasis, or Paulette, to tell some remarkable incident of his life, either as a hunter or traveller.
I grabbed at anything to say that would keep my tongue from telling her to change coats with me that instant, and the bottle in her hand was the only thing that occurred to me. It brought a sudden recollection back to me anyhow, and I opened my lips quite easily. "Scott, that looks like some of the brew I spilled over my clothes at Skunk's Misery!" "Skunk's Misery!" Paulette exclaimed sharply.
But somehow the darkness round me did not smell like a mine, where men worked every day. It smelt cold, desolate, abandoned, like And suddenly I knew where Macartney's men had carried me when I was knocked out! It was no comfort to me that it was to the very place where I had meant to jail Macartney and hide Paulette, where Charliet and I were to have stood off Macartney's men.
I couldn't see an inch before me, but I think we would have made it, since Macartney could not see, either. I knew we were far ahead of him, but that was all I did know, till I heard myself shout to Paulette, "Run!" and felt my legs double under me. If something hit me on the head like a ton of brick I had no sense of what had happened, as people have in books.
I had been looking into the room myself, as you do at the lighted stage in a theatre, and I had seen only one thing in it: my dream girl whose name might or might not be Paulette Brown, whom Dudley Wilbraham had more right to than I had sitting by the fire as I had left her, that fire I had dreamed I should come home to, just myself alone, and talking to Dudley.
And wrapped in a shawl, with her back to me, stood my dream girl, undoing the front door as noiselessly as I had come into the passage. I let her do it. The hallway on which Marcia's bedroom door opened, let alone Dudley's, was no place for Paulette Brown and myself to talk.
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