He was conscious
only that she was there--that she had been very near to death--that he
had held her in his arms--and that he loved her with all the strength of
his manhood.
Presently, with a low cry of joy, he saw the blood creep back into her
white cheeks. Slowly her eyes opened and she looked wonderingly up into
his face.
"Helen!" he breathed. "Helen!"
"Why, Larry!" she murmured, still confused and wondering. "So it _was_
you, after all! But what in the world are you doing here like this? They
told me your name was Patches--Honorable Patches."
Then the man spoke--impetuously, almost fiercely, his words came without
thought.
"I am here because I would be anything, do anything that a man could be
and do to win your love. A year ago, when I told you of my love, and
asked you to be my wife, and, like the silly, pampered, petted fool that
I was, thought that my wealth and the life that I offered could count
for anything with a woman like you, you laughed at me. You told me that
if ever you married, you would wed a man, not a fortune nor a social
position. You made me see myself as I was--a useless idler, a dummy for
the tailors, a superficial chatterer of pretty nothings to vain and
shallow women; you told me that I possessed not one manly trait of
character that could compel the genuine love of an honest woman.
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