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Johnson, Owen, 1878-1952

"Murder in Any Degree"

She will come
to me herself, put her arms around me, and tell me with a smile that no
other thought has been in her heart all this while. That's it. If I wait
she will make the move, she will make the move each time--and that will
be much better."
He waited three days, but she made no allusion. He waited another, and
then he said lightly:
"You see, I am reforming."
"How so?"
"Why, I don't ask foolish questions any more."
"That's so."
"Still--"
"Well?" she said, looking up.
"Still, you might have guessed what I wanted," he answered, a little
hurt.
She rose quickly and came lightly to him, putting her hand on his
shoulder.
"Is that what you wish?" she said.
"Yes."
She repeated slowly her protestations and when she had ended, said,
"Take me in your arms--hurt me."
"Now she will understand," he thought; "the next time she will not
wait."
But each time, though he martyrized his soul in patience, he was forced
to bring up the question that would not let him rest.
He could not understand why she did not save him this useless agony.


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