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Recalled to Life by Grant Allen
page 149 of 198 (75%)
He pushed me gently into a chair.

"I gave you but one false name," he said slowly--"the name of
Cheriton. To be sure I, was never christened John, but I'm Jack to
my intimates. It was my nickname from a baby. Jack's what I've
always been called at home--Jack's what, in the dear old days at
Torquay, you always called me. But I saw if I let you know who I was
at once, there'd be no chance of recalling the past, and so saving
you from yourself. To save you, I consented to that one mild
deception. It succeeded in bringing you here, and in keeping you
here till Elsie and I were once more what we'd always been to you. I
meant to tell you all in the end, when the right time came. Now,
you've forced my hand, and I don't know how I can any longer refrain
from telling you."

"Telling me WHAT?" I said icily. "What do you mean by your words?
Why all these dark hints? If you've anything to say, why not say it
like a man?"

For I loved him so much that in my heart of hearts, I half hoped
there might still be some excuse, some explanation.

He looked at me solemnly. Then he leant back in his chair and drew
his hand across his brow. I could see now why I hadn't recognised
that delicate hand before: white as it was by nature, hard work on
the farm had long bronzed and distorted it. But I saw also, for the
first time, that the palm was scarred with cuts and rents--exactly
like Minnie Moore's, exactly like Aunt Emma's.

"Una," he began slowly, in a very puzzled tone, "if I could, I'd
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