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Duncan, Sara Jeannette, 1862?-1922

"The Imperialist"

There is no weighing or analysing the burden
of such a necessity as this. It simply is important: it
makes its own weight; and those whom it concerns must
put aside other matters until it has been accomplished.
He would tell her: they would accept it for a moment
together, a moment during which he would also ascertain
whether she was well and strong, with a good chance of
happiness--God protect her--in the future that he should
not know. Then he would go on to Dr Drummond's.
The wind had risen when he went out again; it blew a
longer blast, and the trees made a steady sonorous rhythm
in it. The sky was full of clouds that dashed upon the
track of a failing moon; there was portent everywhere,
and a hint of tumult at the end of the street. No two
ways led from Finlay's house to his first destination.
River Street made an angle with that on which the Murchisons
lived--half a mile to the corner, and three-quarters the
other way. Drops drove in his face as he strode along
against the wind, stilling his unquiet heart, that leaped
before him to that brief interview. As he took the single
turning he came into the full blast of the veering,
irresolute storm. The street was solitary and full of
the sound of the blown trees, wild and uplifting. Far
down the figure of a woman wavered before the wind across
the zone of a blurred lamp-post.


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