Rowdy of the "Cross L"
she was still white; otherwise she seemed to have herself well in hand.
"It's about Harry," she asserted, rather sharply. "Have they—caught him?"
Rowdy stopped half-way down the aisle and stared. "How did you know they were—after him?"
"He came to me night before last, and—told me." She bit her lip, took firm hold on her honesty and her courage, and went on steadily. "He came because he—wanted money. I've wanted to see you since, to tell you that—I misjudged you. I know all about your—trouble, and I want you to know that I think you are—that you did quite right. You are to understand that I cannot honestly uphold—Harry. He is—not the kind of brother—I thought."
Rowdy went clanking forward till only the table stood between. "Did he tell you?" he demanded, in a curious, breathless fashion.
"No, he did not. He denied everything. It was Pink. He told me long ago—that evening, just after you—the last time I saw you. I told him he—lied. I tried not to believe it, but I did. Pink knew I would; he said so. The other night I asked
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