"
He walked to the door, he turned the handle, he gave one last,
despairing look--and what did he see? A little, white hand extended
imploringly, and a pathetic little voice, tremulously speaking:
"Hugh, don't go!"
He stopped, turning ghastly white.
"Mollie! For God's sake--"
"Don't--don't go, Mr. Ingelow! Don't go, for I forgive you--I love you!"
Hugh Ingelow gave one amazed cry--it was more like a shout--and in the
next ecstatic moment Miss Dane was in his arms, held there as if he
never would let her go.
"Please don't!" Mollie said, pettishly. "What do you suppose a person's
ribs are made of, to stand such bear's hugs as that? Besides, I didn't
tell you to. I only asked you not to mind the divorce--to-day!"
"Mollie, Mollie! for Heaven's sake, don't trifle with me! I am nearly
beside myself--what with remorse, despair, and now hope. Tell me--can
you ever forgive me? But I am mad to ask it, to hope for it. I know what
you said to Doctor Oleander."
"Do you?" said Mollie; "but then you're not Doctor Oleander."
"Mollie!"
"But still," said Mollie, solemnly, and disengaging herself, "when I
have time to think about it, I am sure I shall hate you like poison.
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