An'--I want to wish you good-luck, an'
say good-by--"
He swept the perspiration from his forehead, and caught up his hat; he had
been through the seventh circle of torture.
"Oh, Vic, dear!" cried a voice he had never heard before. Then a flurry of
skirts, then arms about him, then tears and laughter, and eyes which went
hungrily over his face.
"I been a houn'-dog. My God, Betty, you don't mean--"
"That I love you, Vic. I never knew what it was to love you before."
"After I been a man-killin', lyin', sneakin'--"
"Don't you say another word. Vic, it was all my fault."
"It wasn't. It was mine. But if you'd only kind of held off a little and
gone easy with me"
"You didn't give me a chance."
"When I looked back from the road you wasn't standin' in the door."
"I was. And you didn't look back."
"I did."
"Vic Gregg, are you trying to--"
But the anger fled from her as suddenly as it had come.
"I don't care. I'll take all the blame."
"I don't want you to. I won't let you."
She laughed hysterically.
"Vic, tell me that you're free?"
"I'm paroled.
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