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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"Arms and the Woman"

I smiled a false
smile. Let me make a confession."
"Well?" mockingly from Phyllis.
"It was my last quarter. It was very pathetic. I had to walk four
miles down town. I did not know your uncle well enough or I should
have borrowed carfare from him."
"And I took your last penny?" said Phyllis, gently. "Why did you not
tell me then?"
"I was twenty-two and proud," said I. "Where are you going?" for she
had risen.
"I'll be back in a moment," she said, as she left the room. When she
returned she put out her hand. On the palm lay two bright American
dimes.
"What's this?" I asked.
"The change."
"Very good!" laughed Pembroke.
I said nothing, but took out my wallet. In opening it to put in the
dimes, something fell to the floor. It was Gretchen's rose.
"What is that?" asked Phyllis, as I stooped to pick it up.
"It is the end of a story," I answered. I busied myself with the fire
till the poker grew too hot.
"How many romances commonplace wallets contain?" said Pembroke,
sententiously.
"I have two in mine," said I.
Pembroke looked at Phyllis, but the fire seemed to be claiming her
attention.


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