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Locke, William John, 1863-1930

"Viviette"

The setting sun fell
just below the top of the casement window, and its direct rays flooded
the little room and showed Dick in a strange, unearthly light.
"I wronged you," he said bitterly. "Even in my passions I'm a dull fool.
I thought you a damned cad, and I got more and more furious, and I
drank--I was drunk all this afternoon--and madness came, and when I saw
you kiss her--yes, I saw you, I was peeping from behind the
screen--things went red before my eyes, and it was then that I loaded
the pistol to shoot you on the spot. God forgive me! May God have
mercy upon me."
He leant his arms on the sill and buried his face.
"I can't ask your forgiveness," he went on, after a moment. "It would
be a mockery." He laughed mirthlessly. "How can I say. 'I'm sorry I
meant to murder you--please don't think anything about it?'" He turned
with a fierce gesture. "Oh, you must take it all as said, man! Now, have
you finished with me? I can't stand it much longer, I agree to all your
terms. I'll drive over to Witherby now and wait for the train--and
you'll be free of me.


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