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England, George Allan, 1877-1936

"The Flying Legion"


"Listen," said the Master, in a wholly other voice from any that
had ever come from his lips. "I am going to tell you something. At a
moment like this, a man speaks only the exact truth. This is the exact
truth.
"In all the years of my life and in all my wanderings up and down this
world, I have never seen a woman--till now--whom I felt that I could
love. I have lived like an anchorite, celled in absolute isolation
from womankind. Incredible as it may seem to you, I have never even
kissed a woman, with a kiss of love. But--I am going to kiss you,
now."
He took her face in both his hands, drew it up for a moment, gazed
at it with a fixity of passion that seemed to burn. The woman's eyes
drooped shut. Her lips yearned to his. Then his stern arms in-drew her
to his breast, and for a moment she remained there, silently.
All at once he put her from him.
"Now, go!" he commanded. "I shall follow, close. And wait for me--if
there is any waiting!"
He picked up one of the two remaining wine-sacks, and put it into her
hands.
"Cling to this, through everything!" he commanded. "Cling, as you love
life. Cling, as you share my hope for what may be, if life is granted
us! And--the mercy-bullet, if it comes to that!
"Now--good-bye!"
She smiled silently and was gone.


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