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The Lost House by Richard Harding Davis
page 74 of 74 (100%)
A bullet-hole in the forehead of each showed that self- destruction
and cremation had seemed a better choice than the gallows and a
grave of quick-lime.

On the roof above, two young people stood breathing heavily and
happily, staring incredulously into each other's eyes. Running
toward them across the roofs, stumbling and falling, were many
blue-coated, helmeted angels of peace and law and order.

"How can I tell you?" whispered the girl quickly. "How can I ever
thank you? And I was angry," she exclaimed, with self- reproach. "I
did not understand you." She gave a little sigh of content. "Now I
think I do."

He took her hand, and she did not seem to know that he held it.

"And," she cried, in wonder, "I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOUR NAME!"

The young man seemed to have lost his confidence. For a moment he
was silent. "The name's all right!" he said finally. His voice was
still a little shaken, a little tremulous. "I only hope you'll like
it. It's got to last you a long time!"
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