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Kester, Vaughan, 1869-1911

"The Prodigal Judge"


"You're like every one else! Certain things you'll do, and
certain other things you won't even try to do--your conscience or
your fear gets in your way."
"Call it what you like."
"I offer to take the girl off your hands; when I quit the country
she shall go with me--"
"And I'd be left here to explain what had become of her!" cried
Ware, in a panic.
"You won't have anything to explain. She'll have disappeared,
that will be all you'll know," said Murrell quietly.
"She'll never marry you."
"Don't you be too sure of that. She may be glad enough to in the
end."
"Oh, you think you are a hell of a fellow with women! Well,
maybe you are with one sort--but what do you know about her
kind?" jeered the planter.
Murrell's brow darkened.
"I'll manage her," he said briefly.
"You were of some account until this took hold of you,"
complained Ware.
"What do you say? One would hardly think I was offering to make
you a present of the best plantation in west Tennessee!" said
Murrell.
Ware seemed to suck in hope through his shut teeth.
"I don't want to know anything about this, you are going to swamp
yourself yet--you're fixing to get yourself strung up--yes, by
thunder, that'll be your finish!"
"Do you want the land and the niggers? I reckon you'll have to
take them whether you want them or not, for I'm going to have the
girl."


CHAPTER XVII
BOB YANCY FINDS HIMSELF

Mr. Yancy awoke from a long dreamless sleep; heavy-lidded, his
eyes slid open.


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