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Johnson, Owen, 1878-1952

"Murder in Any Degree"

He had almost a fear of himself. He cried:
"If you don't go, I'll--I'll--"
Suddenly he found something more brutal than a blow, something that must
drive her away, while yet he had the strength of his passion. He
crossed his arms, looking at her with a cold look.
"I'll tell you why you came back. You went to him for just one reason.
You thought he had more money than I had. You came back when you found
he hadn't."
He saw her body quiver and it did him good.
"That ends it," she said, hardly able to speak. She dropped her head
hastily, but not before he had seen the tears.
"Absolutely."
In a moment she would be gone. He felt all at once uneasy, ashamed--she
seemed so fragile.
"My cloak--give me my cloak," she said, and her voice showed that she
accepted his verdict.
He brought the cloak to where she stood wearily, and put it on her
shoulders, stepping back instantly.
"Good-by."
It was said more to the room than to him.
"Good-by," he said dully.
She took a step and then raised her eyes to his.
"That was more than you had a right to say, even to me," she said
without reproach in her voice.


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