Prev | Current Page 214 | Next

McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"Mr. Bingle"

Her home was in the West. Her
parents were respected, God-fearing people. They never knew that she--
that she took up the life she led with--Hinman. Don't interrupt me,
Bingle. If I don't get it out now, I'll never have the courage to try
it again. No man was ever in such a desperate plight as I find myself
in to-day. I'll come straight to the point. I am the man called Hinman
and--this child you've got here with you is--mine."
He might have had the grace to exhibit some sign of shame or
compunction, but he did nothing of the kind. He merely looked defiant,
as if expecting Mr. Bingle to say something that he could resent.
But Mr. Bingle sank deeper into his chair, his chin buried, his eyes
fastened in a sort of horror upon the face of the President of the
great bank. He was incapable of uttering a word.
After a little while Force went on: "Blood will tell. All this
accounts for the peculiar, inexplicable attraction that Kathleen has
held for me. It is like a chapter out of an impossible novel. It--"
"And perhaps it accounts for the antipathy the poor child has for
you," said Mr.


Pages:
202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226