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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"Arms and the Woman"

I was a coward to do what I did, but I could not
help it. I crushed her to my breast and kissed her lips, not once, but
many times.
"How dare you!" weakly.
"How dare I, Gretchen, dear Gretchen?" I said. "I dare because I love
you! I love you! What is it to me that you have dishonored me in the
eyes of men? Nothing. I love you! Are you a barmaid? I care not.
Are you a conspirator? I know not, nor care. I know but one thing: I
love you; I shall always love you! Shall I tell you more? Gretchen,
you love me!"
"No, no! it cannot be!" she sobbed, pushing me back. "I am the most
wretched woman in the world! Do not follow me, Herr; leave me, I beg
you to leave me. I have need of the little strength left. Leave me,
leave me!"
And she passed through the doorway into the darkness beyond. I did not
move from where I stood. I grew afraid that it was a dream, and that
if I moved it would vanish. I could yet feel her lithe, warm body
palpitating in my arms; my lips still tingled and burned with the flame
of hers. An exultant wave swept over me; she loved me! She had not
told me so, but I knew.


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