He won't expect me not to love Freckles, or not to tell
him so, if the telling will save him."
She darted past McLean into Freckles' room, closed the door, and turned
the key.
CHAPTER XVIII
Wherein Freckles refuses Love Without Knowledge of Honorable Birth, and
the Angel Goes in Quest of it
Freckles lay on a flat pillow, his body immovable in a plaster cast, his
maimed arm, as always, hidden. His greedy gaze fastened at once on the
Angel's face. She crossed to him with light step and bent over him with
infinite tenderness. Her heart ached at the change in his appearance. He
seemed so weak, heart hungry, so utterly hopeless, so alone. She could
see that the night had been one long terror.
For the first time she tried putting herself in Freckles' place. What
would it mean to have no parents, no home, no name? No name! That was
the worst of all. That was to be lost--indeed--utterly and hopelessly
lost. The Angel lifted her hands to her dazed head and reeled, as she
tried to face that proposition. She dropped on her knees beside the bed,
slipped her arm under the pillow, and leaning over Freckles, set her
lips on his forehead.
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