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?©, Lyda Farrington

"We Ten Or, The Story of the Roses"

You know very well, Phil, that he isn't the sort of fellow
to do you any good. I sized him up the very first time we saw him, and I
still hold to my opinion,--he's a _b-a-d_ lot."
"_A-c-h!_ you make me tired!" exclaimed Phil,--that's a favourite
expression of his when he's cornered,--and leaning in through the
window, he called, "See here, Chad; any time to-night!"
"Yes, A'm coming," Chad called back, and bidding Nora good-night, he
went out; a minute after I heard their steps as Phil and he ran down the
stoop and passed by the drawing-room windows.
Laying my book down quietly and very quickly, I ran out on the stoop.
Fee sat there with his elbows on his knees, and his chin resting on his
clasped hands, staring at nothing. Dropping down beside him, I slipped
my hand in his arm and squeezed it to me. "I heard Phil," I said. "I'm
awfully sorry he _would_ go."
"Yes," Fee answered, but in a way that I knew he wasn't thinking of what
he was saying.
We sat quiet for a little while, then Felix turned suddenly and laid his
hand on my knee. "Jack," he said earnestly, "I've made up my mind about
something that's been bothering me since last night.


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