Jeff spoke gently. "Nellie."
Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Aren't we ever going to be
friends again?"
Through the open door he could see the fire glowing in the grate
and the chocolate set on the little table. He knew she had
prepared for his coming and how greatly she would be hurt if he
rejected her advances.
"Of course we're friends."
"Then you'll come in, just for a few minutes."
He hesitated.
"Please," she whispered. "Or I'll know you don't like me any
more."
Jeff followed her into the room and closed the door behind him.
Part 2
Two days before the election Big Tim's detective wired from
Shelby, Tennessee, the outline of a story that got two front page
columns in both the _Advocate_ and the _Herald._ Jefferson Davis
Farnum was the son of a thief, of a rebel soldier who had spent
seven years in the penitentiary for looting the bank of which he
was cashier. In addition to featuring the news story both papers
handled the subject at length in their editorial columns. They
wanted to know whether the people of this beautiful state were
willing to hand over the Commonwealth to be plundered by the
reckless gang of which this son of a criminal was the head.
Pages:
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