"
"Ain't regretted it none?"
"Regretted it! I am a finer, truer, better woman for
having known you, Blackie."
He gave a little contented sigh at that, and his eyes
closed. When he opened them the old, whimsical smile
wrinkled his face.
"This is where I get off at. It ain't been no long
trip, but sa-a-ay, girl, I've enjoyed every mile of the
road. All kinds of scenery--all kinds of
lan'scape--plain--fancy--uphill--downhill--"
I leaned forward, fearfully.
"Not--yet," whispered Blackie. Say Dawn--in the
story books--they--always--are strong on the--good-by
kiss, what?"
And as the nurse appeared in the doorway again,
disapproval on her face, I stooped and gently pressed my
lips to the pain-lined cheek.
CHAPTER XXI
HAPPINESS
We laid Peter to rest in that noisy, careless, busy city
that he had loved so well, and I think his cynical lips
would have curled in a bitterly amused smile, and his
somber eyes would have flamed into sudden wrath if he
could have seen how utterly and completely New York had
forgotten Peter Orme. He had been buried alive ten years
before--and Newspaper Row has no faith in resurrections.
Peter Orme was not even a memory.
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