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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"Michael O'Halloran"

Evidently he had been out all
night on strenuous business. His face was haggard, his eyes bloodshot,
while in both hands he gripped a small, square paper-wrapped package. They
looked at each other a second that seemed long to both, then the woman
laughed.
"Evidently an accounting is expected," she said. "Leslie Winton at the
door and the roll of music I carry should be sufficient to prove why I am
going out at this hour. You heard us make the arrangement. Thank Heaven
I've no interest in knowing where you have been, or what your precious
package contains."
His expression and condition frightened her.
"For the weight of a straw overbalance," he said, "only for a hint that
you have a soul, I'd freeze it for all time with the contents of this
package."
"A threat? You to me?" she cried in amazement.
"Verily, Madam," he said. "I wish you all the joy of the birds and flowers
this morning."
"You've gone mad!" she cried.
"Contrarily, I have come to my senses after years of insanity," he said.


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