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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Thank you, Jerry-Jo," the voice faltered; "but I wish it had the tear spot." "That was his book; this is yours." An angry light flashed in Jerry-Jo's eyes. He had arranged this surprise with great pains and had used all his savings. "But it cannot be the same, Jerry-Jo. Thank you but " "Give us another kiss?" The young fellow begged. Priscilla drew back and held out the book. "No."
We could beat the record and surprise folks by our time in coming and going. The wind's safe; not a puff! What do you say?" Jerry-Jo was something of a coward, but by the time he had eaten his lunch and washed it down with more whisky than he had meant to take, he was ready to handle the sail himself and proceeded to do so.
Surely they would forgive everything if they knew just how things had turned out for her! She almost wished she had decided to go back to the In-Place before she started on her trip abroad. She could have made them understand about her and poor Jerry-Jo. Was old Jerry waiting and waiting? Something clutched Priscilla sharply.
Maybe that half-breed, Jerry-Jo, will get her when she's been reduced to his level. There are not girls enough to go around up there, I fancy. That little thing, though, was too spiritual to be crushed and remodelled. As she danced that day, her scarlet cape flying out in the breeze, she looked like a living flame darting up from the red rock. And those awful words she uttered poor little pagan!
"Come back!" shrieked Jerry-Jo with the frenzy of one deserted and too cowardly or helpless to follow: "Come back!" But neither swimmer heard nor heeded. For a moment more the black and the red heads bobbed about, the faces turned toward each other grimly. Even in that waste and at the bitter last the sense of companionship held their thought.
"I wonder how Jerry-Jo will feel about all this?" "Jerry-Jo! And what right has he to think at all about me?" The girl's eyes flashed with mischief and daring. "Jerry-Jo!" she laughed with amusement. "Just big, Indian-boy Jerry-Jo! We've played together and quarrelled together, but you're all wrong, Master Farwell, if you think he cares about me! He knows better than that far, far, better."
"You you are crying! I feel a tear with the kiss!" The quivering, broken smile smote Priscilla to the heart. The ward was deathly quiet; only the deep breathing of men closer to life than Jerry-Jo McAlpin broke the stillness. "Why do you cry?" "You know, it's a bad habit of mine, Jerry-Jo." "Yes. You you cried on his book, you remember?" "I remember." "Do you know where he is now?" "No. Do you?"
"You mean, by this device you will make me marry you? You'll blacken my name, bar my father's house to me, and then you will be generous and marry me?" Jerry-Jo dropped his bold, dark eyes. "I never cared for you, Jerry-Jo. I hate you, now!" At this McAlpin raised his head and a fierce red coloured his face. "You'll get over that!" he muttered. "Any port in a storm, you know.
Jerry-Jo, huddled in a wet heap, was sobbing like a baby gone utterly to pieces. Another hideous space of silence followed, then Sandy spoke again: "I'm going to make the try. I'm dying of cold. It's the only chance for any of us. Here goes!" And before any one could interfere he made his leap and was in the water, a bobbing speck among the ugly white caps! "Good God!"
There were times when she made him feel as he felt when Farwell Maxwell used to look at him before the shadow fell between them the shadow that darkened both their lives. "And that was why you had a a Kenmore name graven on the stone?" "Yes, Mr. Boswell, Jerry-Jo McAlpin. Jerry-Jo is dead, too, you know. They name living people after dead ones. Why not dead people?" "Why, indeed?
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