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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Maruja"

You must have had it made
for you."
"I did," said the gratified Prince, taking up the plate. "What
eyes you have, Miss Saltonstall. They see everything."
"Except that I'm keeping you all waiting," she returned, with a
smile, letting the eyes in question fall with a half-parting
salutation on Guest as she rose. It was the first exchange of a
common instinct between them, and left them as conscious as if they
had pressed hands.
The music gave an opportunity for some desultory conversation, in
which Mr. Prince and his young friend received an invitation from
Maruja to visit La Mision, and the party, by common consent, turned
into the conservatory, where the genial host begged them each to
select a flower from a few especially rare exotics. When Maruja
received hers, she said, laughingly, to Prince, "Will you think me
very importunate if I ask for another?" "Take what you like--you
have only to name it," he replied, gallantly. "But that's just
what I can't do," responded the young girl, "unless," she added,
turning to Guest, "unless you can assist me. It was the plant I
was examining to-day." "I think I can show it to you," said Guest,
with a slight increase of color, as he preceded her towards the
memorable cactus near the door, "but I doubt if it has any flower."
Nevertheless, it had. A bright red blossom, like a spot of blood
drawn by one of its thorns. He plucked it for her, and she placed
it in her belt.
"You are forgiving," he said, admiringly.


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