Garrison's Finish : a romance of the race course by William Blair Morton Ferguson
page 125 of 173 (72%)
page 125 of 173 (72%)
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He obeyed automatically, not striving to fathom the great charity of her
silence. And then he told all--all. Even as he had told that very good trainer and righteous friend, Dan Crimmins. His voice was perfectly lifeless. And the girl listened, lips clenched on teeth. "And--and that's all," he whispered. "God knows it's enough--too much." He drew himself away as some unclean thing. "All that, all that, and you only a boy," whispered the girl, half to herself. "You must not tell the major. You must not," she cried fiercely. "I must," he whispered. "I will." "You must not. You won't. You must go away, go away. Wipe the slate clean," she added tensely. "You must not tell the major. It must be broken to him gently, by degrees. Boy, boy, don't you know what it is to love; to have your heart twisted, broken, trampled? You must not tell him. It would kill. I--know." She crushed her hands in her lap. "I'm a coward if I run," he said. "A murderer if you stay," she answered. "And Mr. Waterbury--he will flay you--keep you in the mire. I know. No, you must go, you must go. Must have a chance for regeneration." "You are very kind--very kind. You do not say you loathe me." He arose abruptly, clenching his hands above his head in silent agony. "No, I do not," she whispered, leaning forward, hands gripping the log, |
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