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It was harder for me to quit then, but now well, everything is different now; and it would please you, Blixy!" "More than anything else I can think of, Condy." He gave her his hand. "That settles it," he said quietly. "I'll never gamble again, Blix."
Her sweetness, her goodness, appealed to what he guessed must be the noblest in him. And she was only nineteen. Suddenly his heart swelled, the ache came to his throat and the smart to his eyes. "Blixy," he said, just above a whisper; "Blixy, wish I was a better sort of chap." "That's the beginning of being better, isn't it, Condy?" she answered, turning toward him, her chin on her hand.
"What are the tears for, Blixy?" he asked, pressing his handkerchief to her cheek. "Because this is the saddest and happiest day of my life," she answered. Then she pulled from him with a little laugh, adding: "Look, Condy, you've dropped your letter. You pulled it out just now with your handkerchief." As Condy picked it up, she noted the name of the Centennial Company upon the corner.
"It's the pretence that I won't have," she added. "We must be sincere with each other, you and I." "Blix, do YOU love ME?" Condy had risen to his feet, his breath was coming quick, his cigarette was flung away, and his hands opened and shut swiftly. "Oh, Blixy, little girl, do YOU love ME?"
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