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The Project Gutenberg eBook, Arms and the Woman, by Harold MacGrath This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: Arms and the Woman Author: Harold MacGrath Release Date: December 19, 2005 [eBook #17359] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) ***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARMS AND THE WOMAN*** E-text prepared by Al Haines ARMS AND THE WOMAN A Romance by HAROLD MacGRATH New York Doubleday Page & Company 1905 Copyright, 1899, by S. S. Mcclure Co. Copyright, 1899, by Doubleday and Mcclure Co. To her, that is to say, to the hand that rocked the cradle. ARMS AND THE WOMAN CHAPTER I The first time I met her I was a reporter in the embryonic state and she was a girl in short dresses. It was in a garden, surrounded by high red brick walls which were half hidden by clusters of green vines, and at the base of which nestled earth-beds, radiant with roses and poppies and peonies and bushes of lavender lilacs, all spilling their delicate ambrosia on the mild air of passing May. I stood, straw hat in hand, wondering if I had not stumbled into some sweet prison of flowers which, having run disobedient ways in the past, had been placed here by Flora, and forever denied their native meadows and wildernesses. And this vision of fresh youth in my path, perhaps she was some guardian nymph. I was only twenty-two--a most impressionable age. Her hair was like that rare October brown, half dun, half gold; her eyes were cool and restful, like the brown pools one sees in the heart of the forests, and her lips and cheeks cozened the warm vermilion of the rose which lay ever so lightly on the bosom of her white dress. Close at hand was a table upon which stood a pitcher of lemonade. She was holding in her hand an empty glass. As my eyes encountered her calm, inquiring gaze, my courage fled precipitately, likewise the object of my errand. There was a pause; diffidence and embarrassment on my side, placidity on hers. "Well, sir?" said she, in a voice the tone of which implied that she could readily understand her presence in the garden, but not mine. As I remember it, I was suddenly seized with a great
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