Oh, what, what," she cried, "induced you to try to
give an imitation of Bert Williams?"
Sam started, stung to the quick.
"It wasn't Bert Williams. It was Frank Tinney!"
"Well, how was I to know?"
"I did my best," said Sam sullenly.
"That is the awful thought."
"I did it for your sake."
"I know. It gives me a horrible sense of guilt." She, shuddered again.
Then suddenly, with the nervous quickness of a woman unstrung, thrust a
small black golliwog into his hand.
"Take it!"
"What's this?"
"You bought it for me yesterday at the barber's shop. It is the only
present that you have given me. Take it back."
"I don't want it. I shouldn't know what to do with it."
"You must take it," she said in a low voice. "It is a symbol."
"A what?"
"A symbol of our broken love."
"I don't see how you make that out. It's a golliwog."
"I can never marry you now."
"What! Good heavens! Don't be absurd."
"I can't."
"Oh, go on, have a dash at it," he said encouragingly, though his heart
was sinking.
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