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Johnson, Owen, 1878-1952

"Murder in Any Degree"


Believe me, I am right. I have thought much about it. You have your
diplomatic career and your ambitions. You are proud. I have never asked
you to give that up to follow me. I would not insult you. In January you
will have a leave of absence, and we will be together for a few
wonderful weeks, and in May I shall return here. Nothing will be
changed." She extended her arm to where a faint red point still showed
on the unseen water. "And each night we will wait, as we have waited,
side by side, the coming of our little boat,--_notre p'tit bateau_"
"You are right," he said, placing his lips to her forehead. "I was
jealous. I am sorry. It is over."
"But I, too, am jealous," she said, smiling.
"You?"
"Of course--no one can love without being jealous. Oh, I shall be afraid
of every woman who comes near you. It will be an agony," she said, and
the fire in her eyes brought him more healing happiness than all her
words.
"You are right," he repeated.
He left her with a little pressure of the hand, and walked to the edge
of the veranda.


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