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Beach, Rex Ellingwood, 1877-1949

"Heart of the Sunset"

"
"I know. But I stood on my cards. I'd have preferred to report it,
but--I'd keep still again, under the same circumstances. You seem
to consider that an insult. If it is, I don't know how to
compliment you, ma'am."
Alaire pondered this statement briefly before saying, "You have a
strange way of looking at the affair--a strange, careless,
unnatural way, it seems to me."
"Perhaps that's the fault of my training. I'm not what you would
consider a nice person; the death of Panfilo Sanchez means nothing
whatever to me. If you can grasp that fact, you'll see that your
own reputation weighed heavier in my mind than the lives of a
dozen Mexicans--or whites, for that matter. People know me for
what I am, and--that may have had something to do with my
decision."
"I go anywhere, everywhere. No one has ever had the effrontery to
question my actions," Alaire told him, stiffly.
"And I don't aim to give 'em a chance." Dave was stubborn.
There was another interval of silence.
"You heard what Jose said. What are you going to do?"
Dave made a gesture of indifference. "It doesn't greatly matter.
I'll tell him the truth, perhaps."
Such an attitude was incomprehensible to Alaire and brought an
impatient frown to her brow.


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