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Smith, Francis Hopkinson, 1838-1915

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

"
"Too late for that, too," laughed Jack, merry once more. "Corinne
wouldn't speak to me if I showed my face now, and then there will
be plenty more dances which I can go to, and so make it all up
with her. I'm not yet as sorry as I ought to be about this dance.
Your being here has been such a delight. May I--may--I come and
see you some time?"
"That's just what you will do, and right away. Just as soon as my
dear sister Felicia comes down, and she'll be here very soon. I'll
send for you, never fear. Yes, the right sleeve first, and now my
hat and umbrella. Ah, here they are. Now, good night, my boy, and
thank you for letting me come."
"You know I dare not go down with you," explained Jack with a
smile.
"Oh, yes--I know--I know. Good night--" and the sharp, quick tread
of the old man grew fainter and fainter as he descended the
stairs.
Jack waited, craning his head, until he caught a glimpse of the
glistening head as it passed once more under the lantern, then he
went into his room and shut the door.


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