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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"The Definite Object A Romance of New York"

The battered hat tumbled to the
floor, and striding forward, he had bent and caught one of her listless
hands all in a moment, and thereafter, though it struggled feebly once,
he held it closely prisoned in his own.
"Oh, don't!" he pleaded, his words coming quick and eager, "don't do
that! Do you think I can't see that you're all overwrought? How can I
let you go tramping out there in the streets again? You couldn't go--you
mustn't go! Stay here with good Mrs. Trapes, I beg of you, and I swear
I'll bring Arthur to you! Only you must promise me to wait here and be
patient, however long I am--you must promise, Hermione!"
She lifted her heavy head and looked at him through her tears. And
surely, surely in the face that bent above her was none of indolence or
languor. These lips were firm now and close-set, these lazy eyes were
wide and bright, and in them that which brought the warm colour to her
cheeks; but reverence was there also, wherefore she met his look, and
her fingers were not withdrawn from his until she had answered: "I
promise!"
"That's my wise dearie!" nodded Mrs.


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