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Dell, Ethel M. (Ethel May), 1881-1939

"Greatheart"

It drew nearer to her. Its brightness became intolerable. She tried
to shut her eyes, but the lids felt too stiff to move. Again, more
feebly, she moved her hand. It would be terrible if they thought her
dead, especially after all the trouble she had taken to return.
And then very suddenly the deadly lethargy passed from her. All her
nerves were pricked into activity. For someone--someone--was kneeling
beside her. She felt herself gathered into strong arms.
"Quick, Wetherby! The brandy!" Ah, well she knew those brief, peremptory
tones! "My God! We're only just in time!"
Fast pressed against a man's heart, a faint warmth went through her. She
knew an instant of perfect serenity; but the next she uttered a piteous
cry of pain. For fire--liquid, agonizing--was on her bloodless lips and
in her mouth. It burned its ruthless way down her throat, setting her
whole body tingling, waking afresh in her the power to suffer.
She turned, weakly gasping, and hid her face upon the breast that
supported her.
Instantly she felt herself clasped more closely. "It's all right, little
darling, all right!" he whispered to her with an almost fierce
tenderness. "Take it like a good child! It'll pull you through."
With steady insistence he turned her face back again, chafing her icy
cheek hard. And in a moment or two another burning dose was on its way.
It made her choke and gurgle, but it did its work.


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