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Updated: May 6, 2025
You can't guess how that braces me the thought that it's for you! You see, I'm beginning to count on things now. I'm not even afraid of your money now. Good old Grif Griffith, you know has given me a shy at a peach of a proposition toughest problem I was ever up against. It's a big irrigation dam that has feazed half a dozen good engineers." "But you'll solve the problem! You can do anything!"
"I have been delayed by something," said Dolly, her heart failing her again. "And here is Mollie, with the headache. You had better go to bed, Mollie. How long is it since Grif left the house?" "Scarcely ten minutes," was the answer. "It is a wonder you did not meet him. Oh, Dolly!" ominously, "how unlucky you are!" Dolly quite choked in her effort to be decently composed in manner.
"And even to the office! He left his lodgings that very night, paid his bills, and drove away in a cab with his trunk. Poor Grif! It was n't a very big trunk. He went to the office the next morning, and told Mr. Flynn he was going to leave London, and one of the clerks told Phil there was a 'row' between them. Mr. Flynn was angry because he had not given due notice of his intention.
So she waited until five o'clock before dressing to go out, and then, after watching at the window for a while, she decided to go to her room and put on her hat and make all her small preparations, so that when her visitor arrived she might be ready to leave the house as soon as he did. "It won't do to keep Grif waiting too long, even for Mollie's sake," she said. "I must consider him, too. If Mr.
Dear, old, tender, patient fellow! as she had been wont to call him in her fits of penitence. Grif, whose arms had always been open to her at her best and at her worst, who had loved her and borne with her, and waited upon her and done her bidding since they were both little more than children. When had Grif ever turned from her before? Never.
Now he rose slowly, put one hand in his bosom, and fixing his eye sternly on Grif, who was doing something suspicious with a pin, gave them a touch of Sergeant Buzfuz, from the Pickwick trial, thinking that the debate was not likely to throw much light on the subject under discussion.
It had all gone for nothing in the end. It must all have gone for nothing, when Grif a new Grif not her own true, stanch, patient darling not her own old lover could read her burning, tender, suffering words and pass them by without a word of answer.
"Here is Griffith," she said, at last, glancing over her shoulder at a figure passing the window; and the next minute the door was opened without ceremony, and "Grif" made his appearance upon the scene. Being called upon to describe Griffith Donne, one would hardly feel inclined to describe him as being imposing in personal appearance.
The round, lissome figure she had always been so pardonably vain about, and Grif had so admired, had fallen a little, giving just a hint at a greater change which might show itself sooner or later; her face seemed a trifle more clearly cut than it ought to have been, and the slender throat, set in its surrounding Elizabethan frill of white, seemed more slender than it had used to be.
When 'had Grif ever been cold or unfaithful in word or deed? Never. When had he ever failed her? Never never never until now! And now that he had failed her at last, she felt that the bitter end had come.
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