There's the red of the blood we were willing to give for
each other. It's like her lips, and like the drops that dried on her
beautiful arm that first day, and I'm thinking it must be like the
brave, tender, clean, red heart of her."
Freckles lifted the ruby to his lips and handed it to McLean.
"I'll be signing me cheque and you have it set," he said. "I want you to
draw me money and pay for it with those very same dollars, sir."
Again the heart of McLean took hope.
"Freckles, may I ask you something?" he said.
"Why, sure," said Freckles. "There's nothing you would be asking that it
wouldn't be giving me joy to be telling you."
McLean's eyes traveled to Freckles' right arm with which he was moving
the jewels.
"Oh, that!" cried Freckles with a laugh. "You're wanting to know where
all the bitterness is gone? Well sir, 'twas carried from me soul, heart,
and body on the lips of an Angel. Seems that hurt was necessary in the
beginning to make today come true. The wound had always been raw, but
the Angel was healing it.
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