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Lynde, Francis, 1856-1930

"The Honorable Senator Sage-Brush"

At the reversing moment she made her final plea.
"Don't do it, Evan--_don't do it!_ I have no more than a woman's reason
to offer, but I am sure you are opening the door to a lifelong sorrow
for yourself and--and--for me!"
It was the last two words that steeled him suddenly. Not even at her
beseeching would he turn aside from the plain path of the oath-bound
obligation. It struck him like a blow that the turning aside would make
him forever unworthy of her.
"Take me back to the city as quickly as you can!" he said. "Or, better
still, stay here and let me have the car. That is my last word."
"You're not fit to drive a car!" she snapped; and for further answer she
threw the speed lever into the intermediate gear and released the
clutch. Like a projectile hurled from a catapult, the swift little
roadster shot away down the cottonwood avenue, and with a jerk of the
lever into the "high" the second race against time was begun.
For the first few miles Patricia's passenger had all he could do to keep
his seat. On its upper mesa windings the Quaretaro road follows the
course of the stream which has been robbed of its waters for the
cultivated lands, and though the roadway was good the hazards were
plentiful when taken at speed. More than once Blount caught himself in
the act of reaching for the steering-wheel, but as often he desisted.


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