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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Gordon Craig Soldier of Fortune"

And it would; there had
already been sufficient revealment of her character to make me aware of
how firm a line she drew between right and wrong. It was not in her
nature to compromise. She trusted, me--yes! But as a "gentleman."
Should I fail in that test of her faith I could never again hope to
regain my place in her esteem. I have wondered since how I ever won
that swift, deadly battle; how I ever crushed back the wild passion,
the mad impulse to clasp her In my arms. Yet, under God's mercy I did,
my voice emotionless, my face white from restraint, my lips dry as with
fever. The one thing I was sure about just then was that we must break
away from this personal conversation; flesh and blood could stand the
strain no longer.
"Let's not talk of ourselves then," I said, releasing her hands, "but
of what we must face here. We trust each other; that is enough for the
present surely. You will not leave, and let me ferret out the mystery
alone, so we must work together in its solution. I have told you that
Coombs claims to be working under the orders of your husband. Is that
possible?"
"I cannot conceive clearly how it could be, and yet he might have
received notice of his father's death in time to assume control of the
estate by telegraph, or even by letter.


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