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Under the Andes | Rex Stout | |
Allons! |
Page 3 of 8 |
"Do not call me Le Mire--nor Senora Ramal." "Well, but I must address you occasionally." "Call me Desiree." I looked at her with a smile. "But I thought that that was reserved for your particular friends." "So it is." "Then, my dear senora, it would be impertinent of me." "But if I request it?" "I have said--anything in or out of reason. And, of course, I am one of the family." "Is that the only reason?" I began to understand her, and I answered her somewhat dryly: "My dear Desiree, there can be none other." "Are you so--cold?" "When I choose." "Ah!" It was a sigh rather than an exclamation. "And yet, on the ship--do you remember? Look at me, M. Lamar. Am I not--am I so little worthy of a thought?" Her lips were parted with tremulous feeling; her eyes glowed with a strange fire, and yet were tender. Indeed, she was "worthy of a thought"--dangerously so; I felt my pulse stir. It was necessary to assume a stoicism I was far from feeling, and I looked at her with a cynical smile and spoke in a voice as carefully deliberate as I could make it. "Le Mire," I said, "I could love you, but I won't." And I turned and left her without another word. |
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Under the Andes Rex Stout |
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