How would it serve Nicholas to keep the truth from his daughter? A tiny thread of disquiet troubled him. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. \"I'll meet you at your locker after school. Let me see now. ” “I promise,” he answered heartily. It was such an unexpected stroke of fortune. I—listen. Until the last moment she was afraid. And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks.
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