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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The Flaming Forest"

" She caught him up quickly, and he saw a sudden little
tightening of her pretty mouth as she turned her eyes to the bit
of lace work again. "But I do not object, because what St. Pierre
says is right--must be right."
And the softness, he thought, went altogether out of the curve of
her lips for an instant. In a flash their momentary betrayal of
vexation was gone, and St. Pierre's wife had replaced the work-
basket on the table and was on her feet, smiling at him. There was
something of wild daring in her eyes, something that made him
think of the glory of adventure he had seen flaming in her face
the night they had run the rapids of the Holy Ghost.
"Tomorrow will be very unpleasant, M'sieu David," she cried
softly. "Bateese will beat you--terribly. Tonight we must think of
things more agreeable."
He had never seen her more radiant than when she turned toward the
piano. What the deuce did it mean? Had St. Pierre been making a
fool of him? She actually appeared unable to restrain her elation
at the thought that Bateese would surely beat him up! He stood
without moving and made no effort to answer her. Just before they
had started on that thrilling adventure into the forest, which had
ended with his carrying her in his arms, she had gone to the piano
and had played for him.


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