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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"The Definite Object A Romance of New York"

Yes, I did! Oh, Hermy, forgive me."
"Tell me!"
"Oh, forgive me, Hermy, forgive me!" he cried, reaching out and trying
to catch her hand. "Yes, I'll tell ye. I--I got in--through th' winder,
an' Geoff caught me. But he let me go again--he said he'd never tell
nobody if--ah, don't look at me like that!"
"If--what?"
"If I'd bring him back here with me--Hermy, don't! Your eyes hurt
me--don't look at me that way."
"So it--is--all--true!"
"Oh, forgive me, forgive me!" he pleaded, throwing himself on his knees
before her and writhing in the anguish of remorse. "They doped me,
Hermy, I--didn't know what I was doin'--they didn't give me no time t'
think. Oh, forgive me, Hermy; Geoff forgave me, an' you must--oh, God,
you must, Hermy!" Again he sought to reach her hand, but now it was she
who shrank away.
"I loved you so--I--loved--you so!" she said dully.
"Hermy," he cried, catching hold of her dress, "forgive me--just this
once, for God's sake! I ain't got nobody in the world but you--forgive
me!" And now his pleading was broken by fierce sobs, and he sought to
hide his tear-stained face in the folds of her dress, but she drew it
quickly from him, shrinking away almost as if she feared him.


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