I passed my hands
over it reverently and gently, and then, in the dimness
of that quiet little room I laid my cheek against the
rough cloth, so that the scent of the old black pipe came
back to me once more, and a new spot appeared on the coat
sleeve--a damp, salt spot. Blackie would have hated my
doing that. But he was not there to
see, and one spot more or less did not matter; it was
such a grimy, disreputable old coat.
"Dawn!" called Von Gerhard softly, outside the door.
"Dawn! Coming, Kindchen?"
I gave the little coat a parting pat. "Goodby," I
whispered, under my breath, and turned toward the door.
"Coming!" I called, aloud.
End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Dawn O'Hara, The Girl Who Laughed
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