That Girl of Johnson's — page 184: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THAT GIRL OF JOHNSON’S, ' ATS smart with a quick glance around the room, taking her hands in his. “Sitdown. Where is Miss Johnson and her cousin? They must not know just now; it would do no good, for the train does not go from here till midnight. Dunwiddie wires that Johnson has had a relapse and can live but twenty-four hours. Dolores—Dolores must not know—yet. She cannot get to him, and it would do no good.” A dead silence reigned through the rooms for a moment, then the lace curtains were drawn aside from the distant window, and Dolores came out; she had unconsciously pushed Dora’s hands from her arm and stood alone with the darkness around her, the light of the faded sunset setting her in outline against the window. She crossed the room with no sign of haste, and stood before Mrs. Green. “IT must go to my father,” she said. Her voice was perfectly even, but the words were slow, as her lips were stiff. “God forgive me!” young Green exclaimed, under his breath, clenching his hands at his side. “Mother, why did you not tell me? Why did you not tell me!” turning fiercely upon Mrs. Allen in the darkness, in sudden dis- ’ trust of her, her subtle words returning to him, losing half their meaning. Mrs. Green took the girl’s hands in -hers, and her voice was tender as a mother’s when she spoke. “Torie,” she said, softly. She liked the tender name. “Lorie, my dear—” Dolores interrupted her. ‘‘T must go to my father,” she repeated, in the same set voice, her eyes not moving from Mrs. Green’s face. ‘‘How can I go?” “You cannot go,” Mrs. Green said, gently, “dear ; not just now; there is no way to go until midnight, then the train will be due here, and Charlie and Mrs. Allen will take you there.” ‘‘T don’t want any one to take me,” Dolores said, bitterly, to Mrs. Allen. ‘‘I must go now.” She drew her hands Eomicbooks (ace)