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Bennett, Arnold, 1867-1931

"The Price of Love"

"
He dropped heavily on to the Chesterfield. What she could see of his
cheeks was very pale.
"Open the window," he murmured. "It's frightfully stuffy here."
"The window is open," she said. In fact, a noticeable draught blew
through the room. "I'll open it a bit more."
Before doing so she lifted his feet on to the Chesterfield.
"That's better. That's better," he breathed.
When, a moment later, she returned to him with a glass of water which
she had brought from the kitchen, spilling drops of it along the whole
length of the passage, he smiled at her and then winked.
It was the wink that seemed pathetic to her. She had maintained her
laudable calm until he winked, and then her throat tightened.
"He may have some dreadful internal injury," she thought. "You never
know. I may be a widow soon. And every one will say, 'How young she is
to be a widow!' It will make me blush. But such things can't happen to
me. No, he's all right. He came up here alone. They'd never have let
him come up here alone if he hadn't been all right. Besides, he can
walk. How silly I am!"
She bent down and kissed him passionately.
"I must have those bandages off, dearest," she whispered. "I suppose
to-morrow I'd better return them to Mrs.


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