"'I was ever a fighter, so one fight more.
The best and the last';"
Madame quoted, encouragingly.
Rose smiled--a little wan smile--as she pushed back her chair.
"Perhaps," she said, "the 'peace out of pain' may follow me."
She went, with faltering step, toward the other room, inwardly afraid.
Another hand met hers, with a reassuring clasp. "One step more, Rose.
Now then, forward, march, all flags unfurled."
When she went in, Allison came to meet her with outstretched hands. He
had changed subtly, since she saw him last. Had light been poured over
him, it would have changed him in much the same way.
"Golden Rose," he said, taking both her hands in his, "tell me you are
glad--say that you wish me joy."
Her eyes met his clearly. "I do," she smiled. "There is no one in the
world for whom I wish joy more than I do for you."
"And I say the same," chimed in Madame, who had closely followed Rose.
"Dear little foster mother," said Allison, tenderly, putting a strong
arm around her. He had not yet released Rose's hand, nor did he note
that it was growing cold.
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