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"On the Firing Line"

Weldon."
"Thank you for doing me that justice," he said, after an instant
when their meeting eyes flashed like meeting blades of steel.
"Stuart had no notion that he was making a mess of things."
She faced him a little proudly.
"I am unable to see what mess he can have made, Mr. Weldon. It is
always a pleasure to meet an old acquaintance."
Few things could have hurt him more than the icy conventionality of
her words. All the gentler side of his nature was crying out for
mercy; but he smothered its cries and faced her bravely, praying the
while for some one to come to them and end the scene. The Ethel Dent
he had known in the old days had been a woman of flesh and blood;
this was a statue of marble, polished and beautiful, but cold
withal. He could only seek to meet her with equal coldness, then
make his escape to nurse his wounds unseen. Nevertheless, in spite
of his resolutions to the contrary, a sudden heat crept into his
answering words,
"But I thought you had annulled the acquaintance."
She looked up at him in mute surprise. Then, mustering her pride,
she forced herself to smile.
"I?" she answered lightly. "Oh, no, I am only too proud to count a
V.


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