McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928 / 2008-07-05 00:00:00
I am simply giving you a chance to get away. I have
always felt sorry for the fox when the time for the kill drew near.
That's the way I feel."
"Oh, thank you! Thank you! But what am I saying? Why should I permit
you to do this for me? I meant to go back there and have it over
with. I know I can't escape. It will have to come, it is bound to
come. Why put it off? Let them take me, let them do what they will
with me. I--"
"Hush! We'll see. First of all, understand me: I shall not turn you
over to the police. I will give you the chance. I will help you.
I can do no more than that."
"But why should you help me? I--I--Oh, I can't let you do it! You
do not understand. I--have--committed--a--terrible--" she broke
off with a groan.
"I understand," said the other, something like grimness in her level
tones. "I have been tempted more than once myself." The enigmatic
remark made no impression on the listener.
"I wonder how long ago it was that it all happened," muttered the
girl, as if to herself. "It seems ages,--oh, such ages."
"Where have you been hiding since last night?" asked Mrs. Wrandall,
throwing in the clutch. The car started forward with a jerk, kicking
up the snow behind it.
"Was it only last night? Oh, I've been--" The thought of her
sufferings from exposure and dread was too much for the wretched
creature.
Read more
Parts:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20