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Smith, Francis Hopkinson, 1838-1915

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

"
"But you cannot see him. You must report to me," she laughed
gayly, her heart brimming over now that he was before her again.
"Father was going to send for you to-day, but the doctor would not
let him. Hush! he musn't hear us."
"He would not let me go out either, but as I am tired to death of
being cooped up in my room, I broke jail. Can't I see him?" he
continued in a lower key. He had his coat off and had hung it on
the rack, she following him into the sitting-room, absorbing every
inch of his strong, well-knit body from his short-cropped hair
where the bandages had been wound, down to the sprained wrist
which was still in splints. She noted, too, with a little choke in
her throat, the shadows under the cheek bones and the thinness of
the nose. She could see plainly how he had suffered.
"I am sorry you cannot see father." She was too moved to say
more." He still has one degree of fever."
"I have two degrees myself," Jack laughed softly,--"one records
how anxious I was to get out of my cell and the other how eager I
was to get here.


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