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Johnson, Owen, 1878-1952

"Murder in Any Degree"

Suddenly,
with the savage directness of the male to plunge into the pain which
must be undergone, he began:
"It was like poison--that kiss."
She turned, forgetting her own anguish in the pain in his voice,
murmuring, "Ben, my poor Ben."
"So you will go--to-morrow," he said bitterly, "back to the great public
that will possess you, and I shall remain--here, alone."
"It must be so."
He felt suddenly an impulse he had not felt before, an instinct to make
her suffer a little. He said brutally:
"But you want to go!"
She did not answer, but, in the obscurity, he knew her large eyes were
searching his face. He felt ashamed of what he had said, and yet because
she made no protestation, he persisted:
"You have left off your jewels, those jewels you can't do without."
"Not to-night."
"You who are never happy without them--why not to-night?"
As, carried away by the jealousy of what lay beyond, he was about to
continue, she laid her fingers on his lips, with a little brusk, nervous
movement of her shoulders.


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