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Burroughs, Edgar Rice

"The Son Of Tarzan"

He had lost her. No more surely had she been lost when he thought her dead than she was in reality now that he had seen her living--living in the guise of a refinement that had transfigured and sanctified her.


? ? ? ? He had loved her before, now he worshipped her. He knew that he might never possess her now, but at least he might see her. From a distance he might look upon her. Perhaps he might serve her; but never must she guess that he had found her or that he lived.


? ? ? ? He wondered if she ever thought of him--if the happy days that they had spent together never recurred to her mind. It seemed unbelievable that such could be the case, and yet, too, it seemed almost equally unbelievable that this beautiful girl was the same disheveled, half naked, little sprite who skipped nimbly among the branches of the trees as they ran and played in the lazy, happy days of the past. It could not be that her memory held more of the past than did her new appearance.


? ? ? ? It was a sad Korak who ranged the jungle near the plain's edge waiting for the coming of his Meriem--the Meriem who never came.


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