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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"Quill's Window"

Now, who else in the world
would have thought of hiring an automobile to send a message by?"
"Is he your son, ma'am?"
"Yes. My son David. Did you see him?"
"Sure I did."
"How was he looking?"
"Fine," said the lad. "Gee, but he's tall."
"Six feet three, my boy," said David's mother. "That's very hot. Be
careful not to scald your mouth. Shall I put in another lump,--or
two?"
"Will it cool it off any?"
"I am sure it will."
Meanwhile, Alix was greedily devouring the contents of the letter.
She stood beside the light over her dressing-table; her heart was
pounding furiously, her eyes were radiantly bright.
DEAR ALIX:
I have just this instant arrived in town, and I am scribbling this
in the hotel writing-room, with my overcoat still on my back. I
shall not go to sleep tonight until I have had your reply. Somehow
I will find a way to get this letter to you tonight, I don't know
how at present, but where there's a will there's a way. If mother
and Charlie Webster are mistaken, or if they have assumed something
that is not true, I shall go away again without bothering you. But
if you want me, I will come straight out to you. You are in trouble.
I am not asking anything for myself, dear,--you know me well enough
to understand that,--I am only asking you to let me do anything
in the world I can for you. That is why I dropped everything to
come.


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