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Updated: May 13, 2025
But God will not look at it in that way. He will look into the heart of the man, the man who sacrificed himself " And then, fiercely, Nada struck up the Missioner's comforting hand, and Peter saw her young face white as star-dust in the lampglow. "I don't care what God thinks," she cried passionately. "God didn't do right today.
He could see Jolly Roger's face, now staring and a bit shocked, and then with a quick smile flashing over it; and when Nada had finished, Jolly Roger leaned a little toward her in the lampglow, and said, "You've got to promise me something, Nada. If Jed Hawkins ever hits you again, or pulls your hair, or even threatens to do it will you tell me?" Nada hesitated.
What lay ahead of him was inevitable. After all, there is something unspeakable in the might and glory of dying for one's country or for a great love. And Jolly Roger McKay felt that strength as he strode through the blackness, and knocked at the door, and went in to face Nada and the little old gray-haired Missioner in the lampglow.
For he some one had startled her; some one had frightened her; some one had made her afraid, and yet defiant; some one had roused in her that bird-like impulse of flight even as the camera had clicked. He bent closer into the lampglow, and stared. The girl was standing on a flat slab of rock close to the edge of a pool.
And then there came a louder roaring of the storm, shut off quickly, and the little Missioner knew that a door was opened and closed. He lifted the latch, and looked out again into the lampglow. Huddled at the side of a chair on the floor, her arms and face buried in the lustrous, disheveled mass of her shining hair lay Nada, and close beside her was Peter. He went to her.
When Father Roland came out, and seated himself opposite David at the small table on which their books were scattered, David received a shock. Clinging to the Missioner's shoulder, shimmering like a polished silken thread in the lampglow, was a long, shining hair a woman's hair. With an effort David choked back the word of amazement in his throat, and began turning over the pages of a book.
He caught only the gleam of her thick, dark hair, and the shape of one slim hand, white as paper in the lampglow. He knew that she was not asleep, for he saw her shoulders move, and the hand shifted its position to hold the coat closer about her. The whistling of the approaching engine, which could be heard distinctly now, had no apparent effect on her.
And then there came a louder roaring of the storm, shut off quickly, and the little Missioner knew that a door was opened and closed. He lifted the latch, and looked out again into the lampglow. Huddled at the side of a chair on the floor, her arms and face buried in the lustrous, disheveled mass of her shining hair lay Nada, and close beside her was Peter. He went to her.
He looked younger and yet older; his face, as David saw it there in the lampglow, had something in the ruddy glow and deeply lined strength of it that was almost youthful. But his thick, shaggy hair was very gray. The train had begun to move. He turned to the window for a moment, and then looked at David. "We are under way," he said. "Very soon I will be getting off." David sat down.
What lay ahead of him was inevitable. After all, there is something unspeakable in the might and glory of dying for one's country or for a great love. And Jolly Roger McKay felt that strength as he strode through the blackness, and knocked at the door, and went in to face Nada and the little old gray-haired Missioner in the lampglow.
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