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Locke, William John, 1863-1930

"Viviette"

He found it out. He has forgiven me. He's worth fifty
millions of me. But my hands are red with his blood, and I can't touch
your pure garments. They would stain them red--and I should see red
again before my eyes some day. A man like me is not fit to marry any
woman. A murderer is beyond the pale. So I said I didn't love her to
save her from the knowledge of this horror. And now I'm going to the
other side of the world to work out my salvation--but she shall know
that a man loves her with all his soul, and would go through any torment
and renunciation for her sake--and, knowing that, she can't go and throw
herself away on a man unworthy of her. After what I've told you, will
you marry this man?"
Still looking at him, motionless, she whispered, "No."
"I say!" exclaimed Banstead. "I think--"
Austin checked further speech. Dick looked haggardly round the room.
"There. Now you all know. I'm not fit to be under the same roof with
you. Good-bye."
He slouched in his heavy way to the door, but Viviette sprang from her
chair and planted herself in his path.


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