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Webster, Henry Kitchell, 1875-1932

"The Real Adventure"

"
"Rose ..."
"Wh-what is it?" she prompted, at last.
"Let me in," he said. "Don't turn me away to-night! I--I can't ..."
The only sound that came in answer was a long tremulously indrawn
breath. But presently her hand took the one of his that had been
clutching her shoulder and led him toward the end of the passage, where
a faint light through a transom showed a door. She opened the door with
a latch-key, and then, behind her, he made his way up two flights of
narrow stairs, whose faint creak made all the sound there was. In the
black little corridor at the top she unlocked another door.
"Wait till I light the gas," she breathed.
There was nothing furtive about their silence; it was the wonder, the
magic of being together again, that made them steal forward like awed
children.
Into an ugly, dingy, cramped, cold little room, with a rickety dresser
and a lumpy bed and a grimy window, rattling fiercely in the gusts of
wind that went whipping down the street.... Into a palace of
enchantment.


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