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Reed, Myrtle, 1874-1911

"Old Rose and Silver"

I did more for him
than that. Nobody seems to think it was anything for me to get up out of
the dust, with my best white dress all ruined and my face scratched and
my ankle sprained and one arm bleeding, and help the Crosbys carry a
heavy man to their machine and lay him on the back seat."
"I thought the Crosbys carried him," put in Madame. "They're strong
enough to do it, I should think."
"Well, I helped. I had to take all that nasty raw meat out of the back
seat and throw it out in the ditch to the dogs, and stand up all the way
home, bruised as I was, to keep him from falling off the seat. We were
in a perfect bedlam there for a while, but it doesn't seem to make any
difference to anybody. Nobody cares what happens to me."
"Besides," she went on, with her voice raised to a high pitch by
excitement, "I don't see why I should be expected to marry a man with
only one hand. He can't play any more, and if he can't play, how can he
make any money to take care of me, even if I should tie myself to him
for life? Do you expect me to take in washing and take care of him?"
"Isabel," said Madame, coldly, "please stop talking so loudly and please
listen for a moment.


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