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Smith, Francis Hopkinson, 1838-1915

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

Her father's quiet
words, and his rescuer's direct answer came as a revelation. Jack,
then, did want to be thanked! Yes, but not by her! Why was it? Why
had he not understood? And why had he made her suffer, and what
had she done to deserve it?
If Jack suspected any of these heartaches and misgivings, no one
would have surmised it. He came and went as usual, passing an hour
in the morning and an hour at night with his Chief, until he had
entirely recovered his strength--bringing with him the records of
the work; the number of feet drilled in a day; cost of
maintenance; cubic contents of dump; extent and slope and angles
of "fill"--all the matters which since his promotion (Jack now had
Bolton's place) came under his immediate supervision. Nor had any
word passed between himself and Ruth, other than the merest
commonplace. He was cheery, buoyant, always ready to help,--always
at her service if she took the train for New York or stayed after
dark at a neighbor's house, when he would insist on bringing her
home, no matter how late he had been up the night before.


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