"
"But she must know--something!"
Miss Polly lifted her hand to the collar at her throat in the
gesture that had become so common to her of late.
"Oh, yes. She knows she can't--move; but she thinks her legs
are--broken. She says she's glad it's broken legs like yours
rather than 'lifelong-invalids' like Mrs. Snow's; because broken
legs get well, and the other--doesn't. She talks like that all
the time, until it--it seems as if I should--die!"
Through the blur of tears in his own eyes, the man saw the drawn
face opposite, twisted with emotion. Involuntarily his thoughts
went back to what Pollyanna had said when he had made his final
plea for her presence: "Oh, I couldn't leave Aunt Polly--now!"
It was this thought that made him ask very gently, as soon as he
could control his voice:
"I wonder if you know, Miss Harrington, how hard I tried to get
Pollyanna to come and live with me."
"With YOU!--Pollyanna!"
The man winced a little at the tone of her voice; but his own
voice was still impersonally cool when he spoke again.
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