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Updated: May 15, 2025
That little girl is going to have her choice by and by I only wanted my fair chance to win out. When she makes her choice her soul will be hers I promised Sandy Morley that!" It was this that had sent Matilda to her knees beside the bed of Lans's mother. And one evening it was two days before Christmas, Lans took Cynthia and his Aunt Olive Treadwell to a theatre in Boston.
Full well he realized Crothers' motive, and he could afford to laugh at that, but he felt annoyed and hurt at Lans's weak falling into the trap.
The last shielding crust of childhood was breaking away from Cynthia her womanhood, full and glowing, was being fanned to flame by the appeal this strange woman was making upon it. Cynthia, the girl who had been caught in the net, had no longer any part in this tragedy she was free! "The child?" she again repeated, "what child?" "Why, Lans's and mine!"
The strain of the Markham blood rushed hotly, at the instant, in Lans's veins. It gave him courage and strength to forget the Hertfords. He took Cynthia to Trouble Neck and manfully told Marcia Lowe what had occurred. The little doctor, worn by anxiety, was almost prostrated. "No one knows but what Cynthia was here all last night," she said. "I've lied to Tod Greeley.
Morley and Treadwell stared at the two faces and into their benumbed consciousness something vital struggled to life. It brought a gleam to Lans's eyes; a groan of surrender to Sandy's lips! The contrite voice was going on and on. "There was no marriage certificate.
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