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Bindloss, Harold, 1866-1945

"Winston of the Prairie"

All who saw it felt that something unusual was coming,
and Maud Barrington leaned forward a trifle, with a curious throbbing
of her heart.
"Comrades! It is, I think, the last time you will hear the term from
me," he said. "I am glad that we have made and won a good fight at
Silverdale, because it may soften your most warranted resentment when
you think of me."
Every eye was turned upon him, and an expression of bewilderment crept
into the faces, while a lad who sat next to him touched his arm
reassuringly.
"You'll feel your feet in a moment, but that's a curious fashion of
putting it," he said.
Winston turned to Barrington, and stood silent a moment. He saw Maud
Barrington's face showing strained and intent, but less bewildered than
the others, and that of her aunt, which seemed curiously impassive, and
a little thrill ran through him. It passed, and once more he only saw
the leader of Silverdale.
"Sir," he said, "I did you a wrong when I came here, and with your
convictions you would never tolerate me as your successor."
There was a rustle of fabric as some of the women moved, and a murmur
of uncontrollable astonishment, while those who noticed it, remembered
Barrington's gasp. It expressed absolute bewilderment, but in another
moment he smiled.
"Sit down, Lance," he said. "You need make no speeches. We expect
better things from you."
Winston stood very still. "It was the simple truth I told you, sir,"
he said.


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