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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"Riders of the Purple Sage"

She liked him as well--nay, more, she thought, only her
emotions were deadened by the long, menacing wait for the
bursting storm.
Once before she had held out her hand to him--when she gave it;
now she stretched it tremblingly forth in acceptance of the
decree circumstance had laid upon them. Venters bowed over it
kissed it, pressed it hard, and half stifled a sound very like a
sob. Certain it was that when he raised his head tears glistened
in his eyes.
"Some--women--have a hard lot," he said, huskily. Then he shook
his powerful form, and his rags lashed about him. "I'll say a few
things to Tull--when I meet him."
"Bern--you'll not draw on Tull? Oh, that must not be! Promise
me--"
"I promise you this," he interrupted, in stern passion that
thrilled while it terrorized her. "If you say one more word for
that plotter I'll kill him as I would a mad coyote!"
Jane clasped her hands. Was this fire-eyed man the one whom she
had once made as wax to her touch? Had Venters become Lassiter
and Lassiter Venters?
"I'll--say no more," she faltered.
"Jane, Lassiter once called you blind," said Venters. "It must be
true. But I won't upbraid you. Only don't rouse the devil in me
by praying for Tull! I'll try to keep cool when I meet him.
That's all. Now there's one more thing I want to ask of you--the
last. I've found a valley down in the Pass. It's a wonderful
place.


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