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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"The Definite Object A Romance of New York"

Upon
one cheek the skin was torn and grazed from nose to ear, and upon his
powerful throat were vivid marks that showed fierce and red, and these
seemed to worry him, for even while he stared upon her loveliness, his
hand stole up to his neck, and he touched these glowing blotches gently
with his fingers.
"God, Hermy," said he at last, "you get more beautiful every day!"
She was silent, but reading the fierce scorn in her eyes, he laughed
softly and leaned nearer. "Some day, Hermy, you'll be--all mine! Oh, I
can wait; there's others, an' you're worth waitin' for, I guess. But
some day you'll come t' me--you shall--you must! Meantime there's
others, but some day it'll be you an' you only--when you're my wife. Ah,
marry me, Hermy; I could give you all you want, an' there'd never be any
one else for me--then!"
Her eyes still met his unflinchingly, only she drew away from his
nearness, shivering a little; seeing which, he frowned and clenched one
hand, for the other had wandered up to his throat again.
"Won't ye speak t' me?" he demanded savagely, then shrugging his great
shoulders, he continued in gentler tones: "I ain't here t' quarrel,
Hermy; I only came t' see if th' Kid got home all right.


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