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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"A Girl of the Limberlost"

"
"You didn't lose any time getting back."
"I never do when I am coming to you."
"Do you want to go to the cottage for anything?"
"No."
"Then let us sit here and wait until the Petoskey steamer comes in. I
like to watch the boats. Sometimes I study the faces, if I am not too
tired."
"Have you seen any new types to-day?"
She shook her head. "This has not been an easy day, Hart."
"And it's going to be worse," said Henderson bitterly. "There's no use
putting it off. Edith, I saw some one to-day."
"You should have seen thousands," she said lightly.
"I did. But of them all, only one will be of interest to you."
"Man or woman?"
"Man."
"Where?"
"Lake Shore private hospital."
"An accident?"
"No. Nervous and physical breakdown."
"Phil said he was going back to the Limberlost."
"He went. He was there three weeks, but the strain broke him. He has an
old letter in his hands that he has handled until it is ragged. He held
it up to me and said: 'You can see for yourself that she says she will
be well and happy, but we can't know until we see her again, and that
may never be. She may have gone too near that place her father went
down, some of that Limberlost gang may have found her in the forest, she
may lie dead in some city morgue this instant, waiting for me to find
her body.'"
"Hart! For pity sake stop!"
"I can't," cried Henderson desperately. "I am forced to tell you. They
are fighting brain fever.


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