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Greene, Sarah P. McLean, 1856-1935

"Cape Cod Folks"

He
had ceased coming to the Ark to sing with the others. He had not played
on his violin since that first night when the string broke.
I heard that he had gone to New Bedford; and it was a day or two
afterwards that, coming out of the school-house after the meeting, I saw
him standing on the steps alone. I knew that an escort from among the
Wallencamp youths was close behind me. I hastened to put my hand on
Luther's arm.
"Will you walk home with me?" I said, looking up in his face and smiling.
I knew that the face lifted to his then was a beautiful one, that the
hand resting on his arm was small and daintily gloved, unlike the bare
coarse hands of the Wallencampers. I knew that my dress had an air and a
grace also foreign to Wallencamp, that a delicate perfume went up from my
garments, that my voice was more than usually winning. I experienced a
dangerous sense of satisfaction in the conquest of this unsophisticated
youth--a conquest not wholly without its retributive pain and
intoxication.
I felt the Cradlebow's arm tremble as we walked up the lane.
"I have a little private lecture to give you, Luther," I said. "Of course
you have been very much absorbed in your own affairs lately, but is that
an excuse for forsaking your old friends entirely? Especially if you are
going away.


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