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Bassett, Sara Ware, 1872-1968

"Flood Tide"

"
But the arms that held her did not loosen their hold.
"Please let me go, Bob dear," she coaxed. "We mustn't be selfish."
Her request struck the right note and instantly she was free.
Robert Morton followed her to the door and stood watching as she
hurried along the copper-matted path of the woods sunflecked and
mottled with shadow.
What a sweet miracle it was, he mused! She was his now before all the
world, thanks to Willie's skilful pilotage. Where was the little old
man--that dreamer of dreams, who with Midas-like touch left upon
everything with which he came in contact the golden impress of his
heart? He must seek him out and thank him for his aid.
Perhaps the thought carried with it a potent charm of magic, for no
sooner had Robert Morton framed it than the inventor himself appeared
on the threshold.
"Well, another of my ships has made port!" cried he triumphantly.
His delicate face was illumined with a joy so transcendent that one
might easily have believed that it was to him love's touchstone had
been given.


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