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Hewlett, Maurice, 1861-1923

"A Comedy of Resolution"

I was ready to go when I knew he was coming
back for that. I told you I would go--and I meant it. I should have cut my
heart out and left it here, and gone away--clean away, glorifying and
praising God. But--oh, it's hideous, hideous! You are discarded--you! Cast
off--you! Peerless as you are--you! Oh, my Saviour, what's this?" He broke
away, and sobbed. He dashed his arm over his eyes in a rage with himself.
She was very gentle with him now.
She put her hand on his shoulder, and though he shook it off, put it there
again. "You hurt me, Struan, really. If you are my friend, you shouldn't
doubt me. I don't feel about it as you do, you know."
He lifted his head at the challenge. "Then you should," he said. "Dog that
he is. He's insulting you. He had better have died than do as he does.
Damn him, he shall pay for it." She shook her head, smiling rather
dismally.
"I can't talk to you any more if you don't understand why I can't talk to
you," she said. "There are things which friends cannot do for each other--
which we have to do alone."
The lad gasped and made a step towards her. He could not control himself--
he shook.
"Not you--never you. I'll die for you--and you know it.


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