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Smith, Francis Hopkinson, 1838-1915

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

Here is her father with every
penny he has in the world in this work--so Holker tells me--and
here are a lot of damages for dead men and Heaven knows what else;
and there is Jack Breen with not a penny to his name except his
month's wages; and here is Ruth who can marry anybody she chooses,
bewitched by that boy--and I grant you she has every reason for
he is as brave as he can be, and what is better he is a gentleman.
And there lies Henry MacFarlane blind as a bat as to what is going
on! Oh!--really, Peter, there cannot be anything more absurd."
During the outbreak Peter stood leaning on his umbrella, a smile
playing over his smooth-shaven face, his eyes snapping as if at
some inwardly suppressed fun. These were the kind of outbursts
Peter loved. It was only when Felicia was about to come over to
your way of thinking that she talked like this. It was her way of
hearing the other side.
"Dreadful!--dreadful!" sighed Peter, looking the picture of woe.
"Love in a garret--everybody in rags,--one meal a day--awful
situation! Something's got to be done at once.


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