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With a sense of relief so great that she realised, for one shocked
moment, the full extent of her fears, she hastened back into the
sitting-room, with her collection of books and pamphlets. A low
voice greeted her. It came from the adjoining room.
"Doris, come here, sweet child. I want you."
How she would have bounded joyously at the summons, had not that
Dread raised its bony finger in every call from that dearly loved
voice. As it was, her feet moved slowly, lingering at the sound.
But they carried her to his side at last, and once there, she smiled.
"See what an armful," she cried in joyous greeting, as she held out
the bundle she had brought. "You will be amused all day. Only, do
not tire yourself."
"I do not want the papers, Doris; not yet. There's something else
which must come first. Doris, I have decided to let you write to
her. I'm so much better now, she will not feel alarmed. I must
- must get a word from her. I'm starving for it. I lie here and
can think of nothing else. A message - one little message of six
short words would set me on my feet again. So get your paper and
pen, dear child, and write her one of your prettiest letters."
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