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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"The Definite Object A Romance of New York"


"A thief!" she whispered, "oh, God--my brother a thief! I don't
seem--able to--think. Go away--go away, I--must be--alone!"
"Hermy, dear, I swear--oh, I swear I'll--"
"Go away!"
"Oh, Hermy, I didn't think you'd ever--turn away--from me."
"Go away!"
"Oh, Hermy--won't you listen?"
"I can't! Not now. Go away."
Sobbing, the boy got to his feet, and taking his hat, crossed
slow-footed to the door; there he paused to look back at her, but her
staring eyes gazed through him and, turning hopelessly away, he brushed
his sleeve across his cheek and, treading slow and heavily along the
passage, was gone.
Dry-eyed she stood awhile, then sank again beside the table and crouched
there with face bowed between outstretched arms, and hands tight
clenched. Evening began to fall, but still she sat huddled there,
motionless, and uttering no sound, and still her eyes were tearless.
At last she stirred, conscious of a quick, firm step near by, and,
thrilling to that sound, rose and stood with her back to the fading
light as Ravenslee entered.


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