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?©, Lyda Farrington

"We Ten Or, The Story of the Roses"

And as we waited
the gay strains of Nora's waltz came to us through the windows; since
that night I just hate to hear her play that piece.
Presently Felix looked up at me with the faintest little smile. "I came
pretty near asking you to write me down a coward, Jack," he said; "but
I'm all right again. Now for your part of this affair: If Phil will come
back with me, as I hope, you'll have to make your way home alone,
without letting him know of your being there. Try and manage it. If he
gets ugly, and will _not_ leave that crowd, why, then we--you and I--'ll
have to travel back as we went. You must judge for yourself, Rosebud,
whether to go, or to stay for me; I'll have enough to do, you know, to
manage Phil. Apart from that, have as little to do in the matter as
possible; ask no questions, speak to no one, and see and hear no more
than you can help. All right?"
"Yes," I answered quickly, "and I only wish I could do more for
you, Fee."
Felix put his hand on my shoulder for a rest, as he usually did when we
walked together. "You've been a real comfort to me, Jack, since Nannie
went away," he said. I tell you that meant _lots_ from him, and I knew
it; I just put up my hand and squeezed Fee's fingers as they rested on
my coat; then we started off.


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