Authors: Mignon G. Eberhart
Willy gave an abrupt shiver. “Gosh! How could Sophie have killed Marcus! After all, you can’t just walk up to a fellow and stick him with a knife. He—he stops you.”
“You,” said Jevan. “Or me…Not a Sophie.”
“If I’d known …if I’d guessed …” began Dorcas.
“Stop that, Dorcas. Sophie was what her nature made her. And she had to kill Ronald, for she thought if he told you the truth you would stop her allowance—and would be warned and armed against her. Sophie loved money, married for money, was bitterly disappointed when your father left her only a moderate sum which she ran through at once—murdered for it. Your money.”
Willy said abruptly: “Well, I better be going on…”
In the quiet, dark street Dorcas and Jevan watched the lights of his car recede and finally turn a corner, leaving the night altogether dark with, suddenly, stars. They turned and entered the gate. And in the shadow of it Jevan stopped and deliberately took Dorcas in his arms and put his mouth upon her own.
“I love you,” he said and kissed her.
There was a long silence. The stars were clear and tranquil and his arms warm, holding her close. He said, whispering: “That annulment …” and waited.
She must have made some motion; her head, perhaps, against his heart, moved in negation. For he waited as if to be sure, there in the still darkness, and then said quite clearly: “Then—then you’re my wife, Dorcas. To have and to hold. Against the world—in my arms—always.”
After a while they turned slowly along the dark walk that led to the house.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
copyright © 1937, 1938 by Mignon G. Eberhart
copyright renewed © 1965, 1966 by Mignon G. Eberhart
cover design by Heidi North
978-1-4532-5733-3
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