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Johnson, Owen, 1878-1952

"Murder in Any Degree"

She controlled herself, gave a quick little nod, without
offering her hand, went toward the door.
"What! I've got to call her back!" He said it to himself, adding
furiously: "Never!"
He let her go to the door itself, vowing he would not make the advance.
When the door was half open, something in him cried: "Wait!"
She closed the door softly, but she did not immediately turn round. The
palms of her hands were wet with the cold, frightened sweat of that
awful moment. When she returned, she came to him with a wondering,
timid, girlish look in her eyes.
"Oh, Jack, if you only could!" she said, and then only did she put out
her hands and let her fingers press over his heart.
The next moment she was swept up in his arms, shrinking and very still.
All at once he put her from him and said roughly:
"What was his name?"
"No, no!"
"Give me his name," he said miserably. "I must know it."
"No--neither now nor at any other time," she said firmly, and her look
as it met his had again all the old domination. "That is my condition.


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