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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Gordon Craig Soldier of Fortune"

"
"And you believe me--all I have told you; that I am really the wife of
Philip Henley?"
"Yes," I answered through clinched teeth, struggling to control myself.
For a moment she sat in silence, and, while I dare not look at her, I
knew her eyes were upon my face.
"Then I will do whatever you say, go wherever you tell me," she promised
gravely. "I cannot decide for myself. I am too confused to think
clearly, but I trust you as a friend."
"Is--is that all?" I stammered, unable to restrain the words.
"All! What do you mean? is that not enough?" in surprise.
My eyes met hers, and I cursed myself for a fool.
"Yes--I--I meant nothing," I managed to explain lamely. "That was a slip
of the tongue. Please forget it, and keep faith in me."
I drew aside the curtain draping one of the after ports, and glanced out,
eager for anything to distract attention. Through the clear glass I
could see the curve of shore-line forming the little cove. Just within
the foam of the breakers a half dozen men were launching a small boat. I
stared at them an instant, before realizing what it meant. Then I
dropped the curtain.
"The mate is coming aboard," I said swiftly. "You must go to your room;
here is the key; lock yourself in, and only open when you hear my voice.


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