Page:The story of Saville - told in numbers.djvu/81

 We shall never have cause for such joy again in all of our three score years! Speak, I command you! ’Tis cruel as hell to mock at my helplessness so,— ’Tis unworthy, unwomanly, all unlike the tender Saville I know,— Dear, I am frightened—a whimpering child—come to me or I go Seeking you, sick to the soul with fear, staggering to and fro!” And he rose and gropingly crossed the room, grasping the empty air, And loud in his heart was a knocking dread and low on his lips was a prayer, And at last by the door his foot struck dull in the coil of her soft sweet hair.

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