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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"Arms and the Woman"

I wish only to wait upon my own desires
and not those of the--the others."
"It is all the same," said I. "Some must serve, others must be served."
When I went upstairs to my room it was my belief that a week or so at
the inn would not hang heavy on my hands. I had forgotten for the
moment the Princess, or that I was hunting for Hillars. It is strange
how a face may upset one's plans. Gretchen's likeness to Phyllis, whom
I loved, upset mine for many days to come.
As I gazed from my window the next morning I beheld the old innkeeper
and Gretchen engaged in earnest conversation. He appeared to be
pleading, nay, entreating, while she merely shook her head and laughed.
Finally the old man lifted his hands to heaven and disappeared around
the wing. When I came down Gretchen was in the gardens culling roses.
She said they were for the table.
"Very well," said I; "give me one now."
"You may have them all at the table."
"But I shall not want them then."
She gave me an enigmatical glance, then cut a rose for me which was
withered and worm-eaten.
"Gretchen is unkind," I observed.


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