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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"Desert Gold"

He simply could not keep his steps turned from
the patio. Every path led there. His blood was throbbing, his
hopes mounting, his spirit soaring. He knew he had never before
entered the patio with that inspirited presence.
"Now for some spunk!" he said, under his breath.
Plainly he meant his merry whistle and his buoyant step to
interrupt this first languorous stage of the siesta which the girls
always took during the hot hours. Nell had acquired the habit
long before Mercedes came to show how fixed a thing it was in the
life of the tropics. But neither girl heard him. Mercedes lay
under the palo verde, her beautiful head dark and still upon a
cushion. Nell was asleep in the hammock. There was an abandonment
in her deep repose, and a faint smile upon her face. Her sweet, red
lips, with the soft, perfect curve, had always fascinated Dick, and
now drew him irresistibly. He had always been consumed with a
desire to kiss her, and now he was overwhelmed with his opportunity.
It would be a terrible thing to do, but if she did not awaken at
once-- No, he would fight the temptation. That would be more than
spunk. It would-- Suddenly an ugly green fly sailed low over Nell,
appeared about to alight on her. Noiselessly Dick stepped close to
the hammock bent under the tree, and with a sweep of his hand
chased the intruding fly away. But he found himself powerless to
straighten up. He was close to her--bending over her face--near the
sweet lips.


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