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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Captives"

She saw Mr. Warlock hanging forward like a sack of
clothes, the blood trickling stealthily across his beard. Poor old
man! What were the others all thinking now? Were they sorry or glad?
Were they disappointed or relieved? After all, he had, perhaps,
spoken the truth so far as he was himself concerned. God had come
for him. He was now it might be happy somewhere at peace and at
rest. Then like a flash of lightning across the darkness came the
thought of Martin. What had he said? "If anything happened to his
father--"
The terror of that made her heart stop beating. She wanted instantly
to go to him and see what he was doing. She even rose from her bed,
stumbled in the darkness towards her dressing-table, then remembered
where she was and what time and went back and sat upon her bed.
She sat there, her fingers tightly pressed together, staring in
front of her until the morning came. She felt at her heart a
foreboding worse than any pain that she had ever known. She
determined that, directly after breakfast, whatever the aunts would
say, she would go to his house and demand to see him. She did not
mind who might try to prevent her, she would fight her way through
them all.


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