Roger loudly cleared
his throat, and at the sound the startled girl ejaculated, "Oh, my Gawd!"
"It's I," said Roger sternly. "Did Miss Deborah say when she'd be back?"
"She didn't go out, sir. She's up in her room."
Roger went up and found her there. All afternoon with both the maids she
had been setting the house to rights, and now she ached in every limb. She
was lying on her bed, and she looked as though she had been crying.
"Where have you been?" she inquired.
"At Edith's," her father answered. She reached up and took his hand, and
held it slowly tighter.
"You aren't going to find it too lonely here, with Laura gone?" she asked
him. And the wistfulness in her deep sweet voice made something thrill in
Roger.
"Why should I?" he retorted. Deborah gave a queer little laugh.
"Oh, I'm just silly, that's all," she said. "I've been having a fit of
blues. I've been feeling so old this afternoon--a regular old woman. I
wanted you, dearie, and I was afraid that you--" she broke off.
"Look here," said Roger sharply. "Do you really want to keep this house?"
"Keep this house? Why, father!"
"You think you can stand it here alone, just the two of us?" he demanded.
"I can," cried Deborah happily. Her father walked to the window. There as
he looked blindly out, his eyes were assaulted by the lights of all those
titty-tatty flats. And a look of vicious triumph appeared for a moment on
his face.
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