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Gregory, Jackson, 1882-1943

"The Bells of San Juan"

" She carried her blanket
on past him, was gone into the yawning darkness, was back in a moment.
"My bed's ready," she told him gayly. "This kind of housekeeping just
suits me! Now for the coffee. . . . Rod Norton, will you do as you
are told or not? You are to sit still and let me wait on you; who's
hostess here, I'd like to know?"
While out of his sight she had slipped one of the hyoscine tablets into
her palm; now, as she poured the ink-black beverage, she let it drop
into the tin can which she presented to Norton.
"Don't say it doesn't taste right!" she admonished him in a voice in
which at last he detected the nervous note.
He stood up, holding his coffee-can in his hand, meeting her strained
levity with a deep gravity.
"Virginia," he began.
"It's too late to cut in on my monologue!" she cried gayly. "Pledge me
in the drink I have made for you, Mr. Norton! Just say: 'Virginia,
here's looking at you!' Or: 'I wish you well in all that you
undertake.' Or: 'For all that you have said to me, for whatever you
may say or do in the future, I forgive you!' That's all."
"Virginia," he said gently, "I love you, my dear."
She laughed nervously.
"That's the nice way to say everything all at once!" He saw that her
hand shook, that a little of her coffee spilled, and that again she
grew steady.


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