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Smith, Francis Hopkinson, 1838-1915

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

Half a minute too early might
ruin weeks of work. We have some supports to blow out. Three
charges are at their bases--everything must go off together."
"But it is such a short visit."
Some note in her voice rang through Jack's ears and down into his
heart. In all their intercourse--and it had been a free and
untrammelled one so far as their meetings and being together were
concerned--there was invariably a barrier which he could never
pass, and one that he was always afraid to scale. This time her
face was toward him, the rosy light bathing her glorious hair and
the round of her dimpled cheek. For an instant a half-regretful
smile quivered on her lips, and then faded as if some indrawn sigh
had strangled it.
Jack's heart gave a bound.
"Are you really sorry to have me go, Miss Ruth?" he asked,
searching her eyes.
"Why should I not be? Is not this better than Mrs. Hicks's, and
Aunt Felicia would love to have you stay--she told me so at
dinner."
"But you, Miss Ruth?" He had moved a trifle closer--so close that
his eager fingers almost touched her own: "Do you want me to
stay?"
"Why, of course, we all want you to stay.


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