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Webster, Henry Kitchell, 1875-1932

"The Real Adventure"


The day proved colder than it looked; a fact that Rose tried to correct
by walking more briskly. But when she got out on the bridge where the
sharp wind got a full sweep at her, she saw it wasn't going to do. She'd
be chilled to the bones long before she reached that hill and it would
be colder coming back. She must go back for her ulster.
Fifteen minutes later, she tried the door of her room and found it
locked. There was a moment of dead silence. But the realization that it
hadn't been quite so silent the moment before, caused her to knock
again. Then she heard the creak of the bed and the thud of Dolly's
unshod feet on the floor, and then her steps coming toward the door.
"W--what--what is it?" Rose heard her ask.
"Let me in," said Rose. "Sorry I disturbed your nap, but I had to come
back for my ulster."
Dolly was standing just at the other side of the door, she knew, but
there was no sound of drawing the bolt. Only a long silence and then a
sob.
"What's the matter?" Rose demanded.


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