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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"Freckles"

Now I only pray to die quickly and never risk the sight
of her. 'Tain't no ways possible, Angel! It's a wildness of your dear
head. Oh, do for mercy sake, kiss me once more and be letting me go!"
"Not for a minute!" cried the Angel. "Not for a minute, if those are
all the reasons you have. It's you who are wild in your head, but I can
understand just how it happened. Being shut in that Home most of your
life, and seeing children every day whose parents did neglect and desert
them, makes you sure yours did the same; and yet there are so many other
things that could have happened so much more easily than that. There are
thousands of young couples who come to this country and start a family
with none of their relatives here. Chicago is a big, wicked city, and
grown people could disappear in many ways, and who would there ever be
to find to whom their little children belonged? The minute my father
told me how you felt, I began to study this thing over, and I've made up
my mind you are dead wrong. I meant to ask my father or the Bird Woman
to talk to you before you went away to school, but as matters are right
now I guess I'll just do it myself.


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