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Sinclair, Bertrand W., 1881-1972

"The Hidden Places"

"One would think you
were a lover meeting his mistress clandestinely for the first time."
"You surprised me," Hollister took refuge behind a white lie. He would
not afflict her with that miasma of doubts and fears which had
sickened him. "I didn't expect you till to-morrow afternoon."
"I got tired of staying in town," she said. "There was no use. I
wasn't getting any better, and I got so I didn't care. I began to feel
that it was better to be here with you blind, than alone in town with
that tantalizing half-sight of everything. I suppose the plain truth
is that I got fearfully lonesome. Then you wrote me that letter, and
in it you talked about such intimately personal things that I couldn't
let Mrs. Moore read it to me. And I heard about this big fire you had
here. So I decided to come home and let my eyes take care of
themselves. I went to see another oculist or two. They can't tell
whether my sight will improve or not. It may go again altogether. And
nothing much can be done. I have to take it as it comes. So I planned
to come home on the steamer to-morrow.


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