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Now put it all out of your head, and look up here to wish me good-bye." She looked up cheerfully, hardly conscious how deep the danger had been; but the flush had gone from her face, leaving it sad and still. "I must go to keep Christmas, Lois," he said, playfully. "Yoh're keepin' it here, Sir." She held her weak grip on his hand still, with the vague outlook in her eyes that came there sometimes.
Drunk hard, died of't, yoh know. But she killed him, th' sin was writ down fur her. Never was a boy I loved like him, when we was boys." There was a short silence. "Yoh're like yer mother," said Polston, striving for a lighter tone. "Here," motioning to the heavy iron jaws. "She never let go. Somehow, too, she'd the law on her side in outward showin', an' th' right.
But SHE killed him, th' sin was writ down fur her. Never was a boy I loved like him, when we was boys." There was a short silence. "Yoh're like yer mother," said Polston, striving for a lighter tone. "Here," motioning to the heavy iron jaws. "She never let go. Somehow, too, she'd the law on her side in outward showin', an' th' right. But I hated religion, knowin' her.
Now put it all out of your head, and look up here to wish me good-bye." She looked up cheerfully, hardly conscious how deep the danger had been; but the flush had gone from her face, leaving it sad and still. "I must go to keep Christmas, Lois," he said, playfully. "Yoh're keepin' it here, Sir."
"Look-ee-heah," Tom exclaimed, having a sudden inspiration. "You help me on somethin' fu'st, an' then we'll have money to git moh guns, if yoh're a mind to start somethin'!" "How you mean?" Tusk cautiously asked. "The railroad feller owes me a hund'ed dollars I wouldn't be s'prised if it was moh, but a hund'ed'll do to start on. Now don't ask no questions! It don't consarn nobody but him an' me.
The old man loosened his hold of Holmes's arm, looked up and down the street, uncertain, disappointed. "The law. Yes. That's right! Yoh're just man, Stephen Holmes." "And yet?" "Yes. I dun'no'. Law's right, but Yare's had a bad chance, an' he's tryin'. An' we're sendin' him to hell. Somethin' 's wrong. But I think yoh're a just man," looking keenly in Holmes's face.
Whatever was the mystery of death that met her now, her heart clung to the old love that had been true to her so long. He did not move. "Let me hev yoh to myself, Lo, 't th' last; yoh're all I hev; let me hev yoh 't th' last." It was a bitter disappointment, but she roused herself even then to smile, and tell him yes, cheerfully. You call it a trifle, nothing?
The old man loosened his hold of Holmes's arm, looked up and down the street, uncertain, disappointed. "The law. Yes. That's right! Yoh're a just man, Stephen Holmes." "And yet?" "Yes. I dun'no'. Law's right, but Yare's had a bad chance, an' he's tryin'. An' we're sendin' him to hell. Somethin's wrong. But I think yoh're a just man," looking keenly in Holmes's face.
"Then what kind of a dawg might you be, Mister Dawson?" But Dale either did not hear, or did not want to take this up. All he said was: "Let's keep on trying, Jess!" "Oh, all right, if yoh're so dod-gasted suah! Go on, then, an' watch tonight, an' I'll relieve you, same as usual, jest 'foh day!"
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