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Tarkington, Booth, 1869-1946

"The Gentleman from Indiana"


She moved backward as he leaned nearer.
"You promised to remember on the day you understood," she answered, a
little huskily, "that it was all from the purest gratitude."
"And--and there is nothing else?"
"If there were," she said, and her voice grew more and more unsteady, "if
there were, can't you see that what I have done--" She stopped, and then,
suddenly, "Ah, it would have been _brazen_!"
He looked up at the little stars and he heard the bells, and they struck
into his heart like a dirge. He made a singular gesture of abnegation, and
then dropped upon the bench with his head bowed between his hands.
She pressed her hand to her bosom, watching him in a startled fashion, her
eyes wide and her lips parted. She took a few quick, short steps toward
the garden, still watching him over her shoulder.
"You mustn't worry," he said, not lifting his bent head, "I know you're
sorry. I'll be all right in a minute."
She gave a hurried glance from right to left and from left to right, like
one in terror seeking a way of escape; she gathered her skirts in her
hand, as if to run into the garden; but suddenly she turned and ran to
him--ran to him swiftly, with her great love shining from her eyes. She
sank upon her knees beside him. She threw her arms about his neck and
kissed him on the forehead.


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