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Dalrymple, Leona, 1884-

"Diane of the Green Van"

There was no fire in his eyes; rather a stupid apathy which in a
man with less strength about the mouth and chin might easily have
become commonness.
"Tregar," he said with an effort, "you told me to come when I needed
you. I am here. I can not see my way--"
Tregar held out his hand in silence. Only he knew the sacrifice of
insolent pride that had brought his guest so low.
Ronador took his hand and reddened.
"My father rightly counts upon your loyalty," he choked and walked away
to the window.
Suddenly he wheeled with blazing eyes of agony.
"Why must that old horrible remorse grind and tear!" he cried, "now
when I can not bear it! It is keener and crueler now than it was that
day when you found me in the forest. Every new twist of this damnable
mess has been a barb tearing the old wound open afresh. And now--I--I
can not even find Miss Westfall. I have motored over the roads in
vain. The van is gone from the lake shore. It seemed that I must make
one final desperate effort to make her understand--"
With the memory of the eyes of Diane and Philip flashing messages of
utter trust that day beneath the trees, the Baron sighed.
"Ronador," he said kindly, "it would have been in vain."
"And now," Ronador moistened his pallid lips, "there is a rumble of war
from Galituria.


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