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Gregory, Jackson, 1882-1943

"The Bells of San Juan"

"
He went out without an answer, his face grave and troubled again. As
her eyes followed him they were no longer gay but wistful, and then
filled with a sadness which she had not shown to him, and then suddenly
wet. But before he had gone half a dozen steps from the door she
dashed a hasty hand across her eyes and went swiftly to the smallest of
the three black leather cases he had brought up here after her.
"This is the one way out, Rod Norton!" she whispered. "The one way out
if God is with us."
Her quick fingers sought and found the tiny phial with its small white
tablets . . . labelled _Hyoscine_ . . . and secreted it in her bosom.
She was laying fresh twigs upon the blaze when he came back with the
coffee-pot, can of coffee, and a tin cup. She greeted him with another
quick smile. He saw that her cheeks were flushed rosily, that there
was subdued excitement in her eyes. And yet matters just as they were
would sufficiently explain these phenomena without causing him to quest
farther. He thought merely that he had never seen her so delightfully
pretty.
"Virginia Page," he told her as his own eyes grew bright with the new
light leaping up into them, "some day . . ."
"Sh!" she commanded, her color deepened. "Let us wait until that day
comes. Now you just obey orders; lie there and smoke while I make the
coffee.


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