The Able McLaughlins
"Oh, dying!" She tried to realize it. "Oh, if he's dying, then we'll be happy again!"
He said nothing. His lips worked.
"I won't have to be afraid now!" She spoke like one overcome by a great fortune. He had never imagined she had been as unhappy as that cry of hers indicated by its relief.
"Dying!" she repeated, tasting the sweetness of the word. Then, suddenly:
"How do you know? Where did you see him?"
She saw his face harden with hatred.
"Wully, are you sure he's dying? He isn't dead yet?"
"He's dying all right!"
After a moment she exclaimed:
"But how did you find him?"
"Somebody told me just as I was ready to start home."
"Oh, that man! I saw that man speaking to you. How did he know to tell you?"
"They were looking for someone to take him out home."
"Oh, they were!" That seemed to have changed the situation for her.
"You mean they asked you to bring him out?"
He didn't relish her questions.
"Yes."
"And you wouldn't do it, would you!" She approved. She clasped his arm with both hands. She rejoiced in her assurance.
His anger flamed again.
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