That Girl of Johnson's — page 197: what you’re looking at

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

186 ‘ THAT GIRL OF JOHNSON’S. a-puttin’ notions inter her head—yes, she’s purty ’nough, Mary, an’ I don’t blame ye, so don’t cry; only et’s my cursed luck thet—she—wa/’n’t a—boy—” The muttering ceased ; the weak voice sank into silence ; a faint gasp stirred the white lips, and the hollow eyes opened for an instant, all the light gone from them, and rested on the face above him; then a strange, half-livid pallor spread over his face, and Dr. Dunwiddie drew the girl gently from the bedside over to the open window. He poured out some wine from a glass on a stand near, and pressed it to her lips. ‘Drink it,” he said, sternly, and she obeyed him mechani- cally. Young Green came and stood at the back of her chair, as though to shield her from any more of life’s strain, any ~ more of the sadness that had followed her, nay, even to death. His friend, seeing the expression of his face, laid his hand gently on his arm in sudden comforting. But Dolores’ hands lay in her lap like two hands of ice. She herself seemed turning into ice with no power of feeling or thought or wish. She seemed to herself in a strange half sense to have died when her father died. com cboo cS eto)