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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"Arms and the Woman"

Stahlberg gave
me a questioning glance, and made a move as though to step between.
"Stand aside, man!" I snapped. "Gretchen, you have dishonored me."
"It were better than to bury you"--lightly. "I assure you he caused me
no little exertion."
Yet her voice shook, and she shuddered as she cast aside the sword.
"You have made a laughing stock of me. I am a man, and can fight my
own battles," I said, sternly. "My God!" breaking down suddenly,
"supposing you had been killed?"
"It was not possible. And the man insulted me, not you. A woman?
Very well. I can defend myself against everything but calumny. Have I
made a laughing stock of you? It is nothing to me. It would not have
altered my--"
She was very white, and she stroked her forehead.
"Well?" said I.
"It would not have altered my determination to take the sword in hand
again."
She put her hand to her throat as though something there had tightened.
"Ah, I am a woman, for I believe that I am about to faint! No!"
imperiously, as I threw out my arms to catch her. "I can reach the
door alone, without assistance.


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