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Merritt, Abraham, 1884-1943

"The Moon Pool"


He looked at her, into the purity of the clear golden eyes, into the
purity of the soul that gazed out of them; all his own great love
transfiguring his keen face.
"An' is that enough for you, _mavourneen_?" he whispered humbly.
"Enough?" The handmaiden's puzzlement was complete, profound.
"Enough? Larry darlin', what _more_ could we ask?"
He drew a deep breath, clasped her close.
"Kiss the bride, Doc!" cried the O'Keefe. And for the third and,
soul's sorrow! the last time, Lakla dimpling and blushing, I thrilled
to the touch of her soft, sweet lips.
Quickly were our preparations for departure made. Rador, conscious,
his immense vitality conquering fast his wounds, was to be borne ahead
of us. And when all was done, Lakla, Larry, and I made our way up to
the scarlet stone that was the doorway to the chamber of the Three. We
knew, of course, that they had gone, following, no doubt, those whose
eyes I had seen in the curdled mists, and who, coming to the aid of
the Three at last from whatever mysterious place that was their home,
had thrown their strength with them against the Shining One.


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