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Atherton, Gertrude Franklin Horn, 1857-1948

"Sleeping Fires: a Novel"

It fumbled in the air
for a moment and then she raised herself on her elbow. She glanced
about the room. It was not her own.
She sprang out of bed. A key turned and Sally Abbott entered.
"What does this mean?" cried Madeleine. "What are you doing here,
Sally? Why did Howard move me into another room?"
"He didn't. You are over at my house. He thought the country would
be good for you for a while and I was simply dying to have you--"
"Where are my clothes? I am going back to the city at once."
"Now, Madeleine, dear." Sally put her arm round the tall form which
was as rigid as steel in her embrace. But she was a valiant little
person and strong with health and much life in the open. "You are
going to stay with me until--until--you are better."
"I'll not. I must get back. At once! You don't understand--"
"Yes, I do. And I've something for you." She took a flask from the
capacious pocket of her black silk apron and poured brandy into a
glass.
Madeleine drank it, then sank heavily into a chair.
"That is more than he has been giving me," she said suspiciously.
"How often did he tell you to give me that?"
"Four times a day."
"He's found out! He's found out!"
"That chambermaid blabbed, and of course he heard it. I--I--saw him
just after.


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