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Manners, J. Hartley, 1870-1928

"Peg O' My Heart"

I wouldn't have NOW--only--I'm
distracted to-day--completely distracted. Will you forgive me for
speaking as I did?"
"Certainly," said Ethel. "I'm not offended. On the contrary. Anyway,
I'll think it over and let you know."
"You will, REALLY?" he asked greedily, grasping at the straw of a
hope. "You will really think it over?"
"I will, really."
"And when she sets me free," he went on, "we could, we could--" He
suddenly stopped.
She looked coolly at him as he hesitated and said: "It IS a
difficult little word at times, isn't it?"
"WOULD you marry me?" he asked, with a supreme effort.
"I never cross my bridges until I come to them," said Ethel,
languidly. "And we're such a long way from THAT one, aren't we?"
"Then I am to wait?"
"Yes. Do," she replied. "When the time comes to accept the charity
of relations, or do something useful for tuppence a week, Bohemian
France or Italy--but then the runaways always go to France or Italy,
don't they?--Suppose we say Hungary? Shall we?"
He did not answer.
She went on: "Very well. When I have to choose between charity and
labour, Bohemian Hungary may beckon me."
He looked at her in a puzzled way. What new mood was this?
"Charity?" he asked. "Labour?"
"Yes.


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