We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
70
THE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE
HE WAS THINKING OF ROYSTON'S COURTSHIP.
for advice had ordered her South for the winter.
"The first flurry of snow will seal her death warrant, Miss Marlow," he had solemnly assured her. ' ' She must go South before the frost conies, or it will be too late."
He had turned to the next patient with no thought of the quivering lip or blanched face. To him she was only a "case" — not even an interesting one ; and now she sat with the bankbook and her purse before her, wondering how she could make one dollar do the work of ten.
But the problem was solved and some weeks later John Rose, sitting in front of the rude bunk house, read and reread the brief letter that had come in by the last messenger. It seemed as if he knew it by heart, yet he read it over and over again, trying to realize that it was from Marion.
"Dear Jack," she had written, "don't think badly of me because I return the ring. It is not because I am tired of waiting, dear, but because I cannot make mother's life the price. Mr. Elrood has asked me to be his
wife. We shall be married in September and the honeymoon will be to take mother South, where she will at least have a chance for life. Forgive and try to forget. Your Marion. "
A light step on the dried grass roused him, and he looked up with a scornful smile on his lips. Tel, the daughter of the half-breed, Pierre, who possessed all the lithe grace of her Indian mother, the daughter of a line of chiefs, made no secret of her affection for the stalwart woodsman. Whenever he sat down to rest and to think, he was accustomed to hear the light footfall, as the girl silently stole past, content if he but gave her a smile.
Slowly Rose tore up the note and let the tiny fragments nutter to the ground. "Tel," he called, "come here."
With the rich blood dyeing the light tan of her face the girl obeyed, eyeing him wonderfully. Rose had affected a contempt for her silent worship. He was thinking of Royston's courtship. It was seldom that he spoke; never had he called her to him before.