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Smith, Francis Hopkinson, 1838-1915

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

" Jack had his overcoat stripped from his broad
shoulders now and the two had reached each other's hands.
Miss Felicia watched them narrowly out of her sharp, kindly eyes.
This love-affair--if it were a love-affair--had been going on for
years now and she was still in the dark as to the outcome. There
was no question that the boy was head over heels in love with the
girl--she could see that from the way the color mounted to his
cheeks when Ruth's voice rang out, and the joy in his eyes when
they looked into hers. How Ruth felt toward her new guest was what
she wanted to know. This was, perhaps, the only reason why she had
invited him--another thing she kept strictly to herself.
But the two understood it--if Miss Felicia did not. There may be
shrewd old ladies who can read minds at a glance, and fussy old
men who can see through blind millstones, and who know it all, but
give me two lovers to fool them both to the top of their bent, be
they so minded.
"And now, dear, let Mr. Breen go to his room, for we dine in an
hour, and Holker will be cross as two sticks if we keep it waiting
a minute.


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