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Smith, Francis Hopkinson, 1838-1915

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

"
Again his voice had the old ring.
"But, Garry," insisted Jack, "if I can see Morris in the morning
and lay the whole matter before him--"
"You'll do nothing of the kind, do you hear!--keep still--
somebody's coming downstairs. Not a word if it is Corinne. She is
carrying now all she can stand up under."
He passed his hand across his face with a quick movement and
brushed the tears from his cheeks.
"Remember, not a word. I haven't told her everything. I tried to,
but I couldn't."
"Tell her now, Garry," cried Jack. "Now--to-night," his voice
rising on the last word. "Before you close your eyes. You never
needed her help as you do now."
"I can't--it would break her heart. Keep still!--that's her
step."
Corinne entered the room slowly and walked to Garry's chair.
"Baby's asleep now," she said in a subdued voice, "and I'm going
to take you to bed. You won't mind, Jack, will you? Come, dear,"
and she slipped her hand under his arm to lift him from his chair.
Garry rose from his seat.
"All right," he answered assuming his old cheerful tone, "I'll go.


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