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Freeman, R. Austin (Richard Austin), 1862-1943

"The Vanishing Man"

The pallor of her cheek had
given place to a rosy pink; the hardness, the tension, the haggard
self-repression that had aged her face, were all gone, and the girlish
sweetness that had so bewitched me in the early days of our love had
stolen back. Even the dimple was there when the sweeping lashes lifted
and her eyes met mine in a smile of infinite tenderness. Little was said
on that brief journey. It was happiness enough to sit, hand clasped in
hand, and know that our time of trial was past; that no cross of Fate
could ever part us now.
The astonished cabman set us down, according to instructions, at the
entrance to Nevill's Court, and watched us with open mouth as we
vanished into the narrow passage. The court had settled down for the
night, and no one marked our return; no curious eye looked down on us
from the dark house-front as we said "Good-bye" just inside the gate.
"You will come and see us to-morrow, dear, won't you?" she asked.
"Do you think it possible that I could stay away, then?"
"I hope not.


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