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Wylie, I. A. R. (Ida Alexa Ross), 1885-1959

"The Native Born or, the Rajah's People"


Lois' face was grave and contemptuous.
"I do not know what you have done," she said--"I do not understand
what part you played in John's life or in mine, nor how far you are
innocent or guilty of bringing about all this misfortune--but I know
this much--we shall take our share of trouble."
"Lois, you are my wife! You have no right to go against me."
"I have the right where my honor--where your honor--is concerned. I
have the right to refuse to commit an act of gross injustice." She
glanced down once more at the quiet face of the man who had held so
persistently upon her life and heart, and her firmly compressed lips
trembled. "Oh, Archie, was it worth while--just for a little bit of
gain? Was it worth while? We might all have been so happy!"
He said nothing. His rage had sunk into a sullen, dogged defiance. The
roar of voices beyond the compound suddenly subsided. They heard the
Colonel's voice issuing a sharp command and the thud of grounded
rifles.
"We must go," she said.
He followed her down the steps, his face painfully averted from the
figure that lay motionless upon the ground. The world is but a
reflection of ourselves. The sunshine is sad or joyful according to
our moods. We read threats and promises in the smiles of others as our
own heart is hopeful or distrusting. And for Travers, with the
bloodstained hand, the poor lifeless body of his enemy had become the
towering shadow of an approaching Nemesis.


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