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Poole, Ernest, 1880-1950

"His Family"

At last he stirred heavily in
his chair.
"I guess you're right," he told her. "At least I'll think it over--and try
to work out something along the lines you spoke of."
Again there was a silence. Then his daughter turned to him with a little
deprecating smile.
"You'll forgive my--preaching to you, dad?"
"No preaching," he said gruffly. "Just ordinary common sense."
* * * * *
A little later Allan came in, and Roger soon left them and went to bed.
Alone with Baird she was silent a moment.
"Well? Have you thought it over?" she asked. "Wasn't I right in what I
said?" At the anxious ring in her low clear voice, leaning over he took her
hand; and he felt it hot and trembling as it quickly closed on his. He
stroked it slowly, soothingly. In the semi-darkness he seemed doubly tall
and powerful.
"Yes, I'm sure you were right," he said.
"Spring at the latest--I'll marry you then--"
Her eyes were intently fixed on his.
"Come here!" she whispered sharply, and Baird bent over and held her
tight. "Tighter!" she whispered. "Tighter!... There!... I said, spring at
the latest! I can't lose you, Allan--now--"
She suddenly quivered as though from fatigue.
"I'm going to watch you close down there," he said in a moment, huskily.


CHAPTER XXV

Roger saw little of Deborah in the weeks that followed. She was gathering
her forces for the long struggle she saw ahead.


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