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Daviess, Maria Thompson, 1872-1924

"The Melting of Molly"

He said couldn't I go without you if you
was busy and couldn't come and I told him you would put things down and
come if I said so. Won't you, Molly? It won't be no fun without you and
you'd cry all by yourself with me gone." His little face was all drawn
up with anxiety and sympathy at my lonely estate with him out of it and
a cry rose up from my heart with a kind of primitive savagery at what I
felt was coming down upon me.
Without waiting to take him with me, or think, or do anything but feel
deadly savage anger, I hurried across the garden and into Doctor Moore's
office, where he was just laying off his gloves and dust coat.
"What do you mean, John Moore, by daring, daring to think you can go and
take Billy away from me?" I demanded looking at him with what must have
been such fear and madness in my face that he was startled as he came
close to the table against which I leaned. His face had grown white and
quiet at my attack and he waited to answer for a long horrible minute
that pulled me apart like one of those inquisition machines they used to
torture women with when they didn't know any better modern way to do it.
"I didn't know Bill would tell you so soon, Mrs.


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