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Gregory, Jackson, 1882-1943

"The Bells of San Juan"

You
will hardly need to stay at Las Estrellas all night, I imagine. When
we leave you can listen to me. Do you mind?"
"No," she said slowly. "I don't mind. I'd rather it was then. You
and I have a good bit to think about before we do any talking. Haven't
we?"
They fell silent again. The soft beauty of the night over the southern
desert lands . . . and there is no other earthly beauty like it . . .
touched the girl's soul now as it had never done before; perhaps,
similarly, it disturbed shadows in the man's. She was distressed by
the position in which she found herself, and the night's infinite quiet
and utter peace was grateful to her. As she left the hotel her
thoughts were in chaos; she was caught in a fearsome labyrinth whence
there appeared no escape. Now, though no way out suggested itself,
still the stars were shining.
At last the twinkling lights of Las Estrellas, seeming at first fallen
stars caught in the mesquite branches, swam into view. Plainly Tony's
accident had stimulated much local interest; among the few straggling
houses men came and went, while a knot of women, children, and
countless mongrel dogs had congregated just outside of the hut where
the injured man lay. A brush fire in the street crackled right
merrily, its sparks dancing skyward.


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