“For one thing, Anna,” she remarked, “we had not the slightest idea that you had left, or were leaving Paris. See you in Science Class. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. "I can't hold it much longer—it'll break my wrist. He recognized the handwriting, and turned a shade paler. I just never had anything else fun to do. ’ Which effectually silenced her. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. Knap.
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