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The Tidal Wave and Other Stories by Ethel M. (Ethel May) Dell
page 102 of 340 (30%)
He did not answer for a moment. Then: "Come down to my place!" he said.
"It's but a step."

She made a swift gesture that had in it something of recoil, but the
next moment, without a word, she began to walk down the slope.

He trod through the growth beside her, barefooted, unfaltering. His blue
eyes looked straight before him; they were unwavering and resolute as
the man himself.

They reached the cottage. He made her enter it before him, and he
followed, but he did not close the door. Instead, he stopped and
deliberately hooked it back.

Then, with the low call of the sea filling the humble little room, he
turned round to the girl, who stood with her head bent, awaiting his
pleasure.

"Columbine," he said, and the name came with an unaccustomed softness
from his lips, "I've something to say to you. You've been hiding
yourself from me. I know. I know. And you needn't. Them flowers--I
gathered 'em and I sent 'em up to you every day, because I wanted you to
understand as you've nothing to fear from me. I wanted you to know as
everything is all right, and I mean well by you. I didn't know how to
tell you, and then I saw the roses growing outside the door, and I
thought as maybe they'd do it for me. They made me think of you somehow.
They were so white--and pure."

"Ah!" The word was a wrung sound, half cry, half sob. His roses fell
suddenly and scattered upon the floor between them. Columbine's hands
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