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Wright, Harold Bell, 1872-1944

"Helen of the Old House"

As he considered her words and grasped the full force of her
question his face went white and his nerves were tense with the
emotional strain.
At last he said, gently, "Helen, dear, I love you. I want you for my
wife. I want you more than I ever wanted anything. Nothing in the world
is of any value to me compared with your love. But, dear girl, don't
you see that I can't take you like this? You cannot sell yourself to
me--even for such a price. I cannot buy you." He turned away.
"Forgive me, Jim," she cried. "I did not realize what I was saying.
I--I was thinking of little Maggie--I--I know you would not do what you
are doing if you did not think you were right. Take me home now,
please, Jim."
* * * * *
Silently they went out to his automobile. Tenderly he helped her into
the car and tucked the robe about her. The guards swung open the big
gates, and they swept away into the night. Past the big Mill and the
Flats, through the silent business district and up the hill they glided
swiftly--steadily. And no word passed between them.
They were nearing the gate to the Ward estate when Helen suddenly
grasped her companion's arm with a low exclamation.
At the same moment McIver instinctively checked the speed of his car.


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