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Augusta, Clara, 1839-1905

"The Fatal Glove"


"The woman's lost her purse--"
"Oh, ho! the old story--eh? Beauty in distress. Should think they'd git
tired of playing that game!" said the coarse voice, which belonged to a
lounger and hanger-on at the depot.
"Looks rather suspicious, ma'am, for ye to be traveling on the train
alone," began the hackman; but he was interrupted by the lounger.
"That's the way they all travel. Wall, thank the Lord, I hain't so
gallant as to git taken in by every decent face I see!"
"Thank Heaven, I am not so lost to all sense of decency as to insult a
lady!" said a clear, stern voice; and a tall, distinguished-looking man
swept through the crowd, and reached Margie's side.
"Indeed, I am not mistaken!" he said, looking at her with amazement.
"Miss Harrison!"
She saw, as he lifted his hat, the frank, handsome face of Louis
Castrani. All her troubles were over--this man was a pillar of strength
to her weakness. She caught his arm eagerly, and Leo barked with joy,
recognizing a friend.
"I am so glad to see you, Mr. Castrani!"
His countenance lighted instantly. He pressed the hand on his arm.
"Thank you, my friend. What service can I render you? Where do you wish
to go? Let met act for you."
"Oh, thank you--if you only will! I was going further, but the train I
wished to take has been gone some hours, and I must stay here to-night.


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