She was clinging to him closely, beseechingly; but he stood
firm and unyielding, his young face set in hard lines.
"Will you do it?" he said, as she did not speak.
"Jerry!" she said imploringly.
He stiffened to meet the appeal he dreaded. But it did not come. Her
eyes were raised to his, and she seemed to read there the futility of
argument. She remained absolutely still for some seconds, then abruptly
she turned from him and burst into tears.
"Don't! don't!" he said.
He stepped close to her, as she leaned upon the mantelpiece, all the
hardness gone from his face. Had she known it, the battle at that moment
might have been hers; for he would have insisted no longer. He was on
the brink of abandoning the conflict. But her anguish of weeping
possessed her to the exclusion of everything else.
"Oh, Jerry, go away!" she sobbed passionately. "You're a perfect beast,
and I'm another! But I'll do it, I'll do it--for your sake, as I would
do anything in the world, though it's quite true that I'd rather
starve!"
And Jerry, rather pale, but otherwise complete master of himself, patted
her shoulder with a hasty assumption of kindly approval; and told her
that he had always known she was a brick.
II
"Heaven knows I don't aspire to be any particular ornament to society,"
said Dick Kenyon modestly. "Never have; though I've been pretty well
everything else that you can think of, from cow-puncher to millionaire.
Pages:
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247