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King, Basil, 1859-1928

"The Wild Olive"


"Don't do anything rash," she pleaded. "Wait till to-morrow There will
always be time. For God's sake!"
If he heard her he paid no attention, and presently Wayne appeared. He
hesitated a minute on the threshold, and during that instant Ford could
see that he looked ashy and older, as if something had aged him suddenly.
His hands trembled, too, as he felt his way in.
"Good-evening," he said, speaking into the air as blind men do. "I thought
I heard your voice."
Having groped his way across the room and reached the table that stood
between the arm-chairs Miriam and Ford had occupied, he stopped. He stood
there, with fingers drumming soundlessly on the polished wood, waiting for
some one to speak.
In spite of the confidence with which he had rung the bell, Ford found it
difficult now to begin. It was only after one or two inarticulate attempts
that he was able to say anything.
"I asked you to come in, sir," he began, haltingly, "to tell you something
very special. Miss Strange knows it already.... If I've done wrong in not
telling you before ... you'll see I'm prepared to take my punishment.


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