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Webster, Henry Kitchell, 1875-1932

"The Real Adventure"

"
At that she stepped back and shook her head. But he had discovered while
his hands held her, that she was trembling, too.
The stage door opened again to emit a group of three of the ponies.
"My Gawd," one of them shrilled, "what a hell of a night!"
They stared curiously at Dane and the big man who stood there with her,
then scurried away down the alley.
"We can't talk here," he said. "We must go somewhere."
She nodded assent and they moved off side by side after the three little
girls, but slower. In an accumulation of shadows, half-way down the
alley, he reached out for her arm. It might have begun as an automatic
act--just an unconscious instinct to prevent her stumbling, there in the
dark. But the moment he touched her, the quality of it changed. He
gripped her arm tight and they both stood still. The next moment, and
without a word, they moved on again. At the corner of the alley, they
turned north. This was on Clark Street. Finally:
"Are you all right, Roddy? And the babies?" she managed to say.


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