A lump rose in his throat, and
a look of his old father shone out of his face--that look with
which in the years gone by he had defied jury, district attorney,
and public opinion for what he considered mercy. And mercy should
be exercised now. Garry had never done one dishonest act before,
and never, God helping, should he be judged for this.
He, John Breen, let Garry be called a common thief! Garry whose
every stand in Corklesville had been for justice; Garry whom
Morris loved, whose presence brought a cheery word of welcome from
every room he entered! Let him be proclaimed a defaulter, insulted
by ruffians like McGowan, and treated like a felon--brilliant,
lovable, forceful Garry! Never, if he had to go down on his knees
to Holker Morris or any other man who could lend him a dollar.
Corinne must have seen the new look in his face, for her own eyes
brightened as she asked:
"Have you thought of something that can help him?"
Jack did not answer. His mind was too intent on finding some
thread which would unravel the tangle.
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