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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"Black Jack"

Ah, very lovely!"
She barely touched the bright hair.
"He doesn't even think of me," said the girl sadly. "But I have no shame.
I have let you know everything. It isn't for me. It's for Terry, Miss
Cornish. And you'll come? You'll come as quickly as you can? You'll come
to my father's house? You'll ask Terry to come back? One word will do it!
And I'll hurry back and--keep him there till you come. God give me
strength! I'll keep him till you come!"
Outside the door, his ear pressed to the crack, Vance Cornish did not
wait to hear more. He knew the answer of Elizabeth before she spoke. And
all his high-built schemes he saw topple about his ears. Grief had been
breaking the heart of his sister, he knew. Grief had been bringing her
close to the grave. With Terry back, she would regain ten years of life.
With Terry back, the old life would begin again.
He straightened and staggered down the stairs like a drunken man,
clinging to the banister. It was an old-faced man who came out onto the
veranda, where Waters was chewing his cigar angrily. At sight of his host
he started up. He was a keen man, was Waters.


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