"
"Oh Dick--my dear!" she said.
He stood stiffly facing her. "I never repented. I'd do the same again
now--or worse, to such a man as that. He was a brute beast. But--I
suppose God doesn't allow these things. Anyway, I've been
punished--pretty heavily. I got fond of the boy. He was the only thing
left to care for. He took the place of everything else. And now--because
of a damnable lie--" Something seemed to rise in his throat, he paused,
struggling with himself, finally went on jerkily, with difficulty. "One
more thing--you'd better know. It'll help you to--forget me. The man I
killed was not my own father--except in name. My mother refused to marry
the man she loved because she thought it would injure his career--his
people threatened to disown him. She gave herself instead to--the
scoundrel whose name I bear--just to set him free."
Again he stopped. Juliet had moved. She was coming up the long room to
him, not quickly, but with purpose. He stood, still facing her, his
breathing short and hard.
Quietly, with that regal bearing that was so supremely her own, she drew
near. And her eyes were shining with a light that made her beautiful.
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