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The Golden Scarecrow by Sir Hugh Walpole
page 40 of 207 (19%)
raised a little, watching it. She did not move at all, but knelt with
her hands straight out upon her knees, and the chain with its large gold
rings like flaming eyes swung from hand to hand. Then he tried to move
forward, his whole soul in his gaze. He would raise a hand towards the
treasure and then because that upset his balance he would fall, but at
once he would be up again. He moved a little and breathed little gasps
of pleasure.

She bent forward to him, his hand was outstretched. His eyes went up
and, meeting hers, instantly the chain was forgotten. That recognition
that they had given him before was there now.

With a scramble and a lurch, desperate, heedless in its risks, he was in
his mother's lap. Then he crowed. He crowed for all the world to hear
because now, at last, he had become its citizen.

Was there not then, from some one, disregarded and forgotten at that
moment, a sigh, lighter than the air itself, half-ironic, half-wistful
regret?




CHAPTER II

ERNEST HENRY


I

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