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Smith, Francis Hopkinson, 1838-1915

"Peter: a novel of which he is not the hero"

I lived in the old home with an
aunt after my father's death. And went to school and then to
college at Hagerstown--quite a small college--where uncle looked
after me--he paid the expenses really--and then I was clerk in a
law office for a while, and at my aunt's death about a year ago
the old place was sold and I had no home, and Uncle Arthur sent
for me to come here."
"Very decent in him, and you should never forget him for it," and
again Peter's eyes roamed around the perfectly appointed room.
"I know it, sir, and at first the very newness and strangeness of
everything delighted me. Then I began to meet the people. They
were so different from those in my part of the country, especially
the young fellows--Garry is not so bad, because he really loves
his work and is bound to succeed--everybody says he has a genius
for architecture--but the others--and the way they treat the young
girls, and what is more unaccountable to me is the way the young
girls put up with it."
Peter had settled himself deeper in his chair, his eyes shaded
with one hand and looked intently at the boy.


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