Darke Darrell, the Boy Detective — page 144: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

\ | DARKE DARRELL. 135 © ‘* And after that I must go away,” with a falling inflec- tion of her voice. ‘“Not necessarily,” answered Mrs. Kendrick, her heart going out more than ever toward the girl. ‘¢T should'so much like to stay here,” her red lips quiver- ing. ‘* Were youin the room last night?” ‘*With Mr. Kendrick. Do you not remember?” ‘* Alone, I mean. After that?” ‘Why do you ask?” “‘It wasa dream, I guess,” dropping into a reverie. ‘thought my mother bent over me and kissed me. almost too real to have been a dream.” It was coy ‘What do you remember about your mother?” Mrs. Kendrick asked, ‘‘How do you know you were stolen from home?” ‘‘How?” coming back to herself. ‘‘ By what I overheard others say; by things which I remember, however indistinct they may seem. Memories of a mother’s face, of calm blue skies, a sunny lake, fairy sunsets, orange groves, cloud-capped hills, vine-covered slopes, music in the still moonlight—a thousand things, likea dream, and yet not like a dream.” A little pause, tears in her eyes, her shapely hands clasped, then a quick, yearning, appealing cry. “Don’t send me away! Don’t send me away! very good! I'll love you, obey you, work for you, slave for Tl be you! Don’t send me away!” her whole frame shaking. Mrs. Kendrick was entirely overcome; there was no re- sisting that earnest, vehement appeal. She brushed a tear from her eye. ‘‘T’ll not send you away, darling,” her own voice broken. Leotine sprang out of bed entwined her arms around Mrs. Kendrick’s neck and kissed her passionataly. (€(0) m (e JOO “S (E(0)