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

"Greatheart"

It
fell on the shingle behind her, reaching her above the roar of the
breakers, and instantly a flood of colour rushed up over her face and
neck.
Sharply she turned. "Scott!"
She was on her feet in a second with hand outstretched in welcome.
"Oh, how you startled me! How good of you to come so soon! I--shouldn't
have left the house if I had known."
"I came at once," he said simply. "But I have only just got here. I saw
you sitting on the shore and came straight to you. What news?"
His quiet, deliberate voice was in striking contrast to her agitated
utterance. The hand that held hers was absolutely steady.
She met his look with confidence. "Scott, she is going. You knew
it--didn't you?--when you were here last Sunday? She knew it too. She
didn't want you to go really. And so--directly I realized she was
worse--I sent for you. But--they say--even now she may linger for a
little. But you'll stay, won't you? You won't go again?"
His grave eyes looked into hers. "Of course I will stay," he said.
She drew a quick sigh of relief. "She scarcely slept last night. Her
breathing was so bad. It was very hot, you know. The nurse or I were
fanning her nearly all the time, till the morning breeze came at last.
And then she got quieter. She is asleep now. They say she will sleep
for hours. And so I slipped out just for a little, so as to be quite
fresh again when she wakes.


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