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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"Half a Rogue"


"If only I were all you hitherto believed me to be!"
"Nor fish to-morrow morning."
"This letter has been like an anchor. Immediately upon receiving it I
began to try to live better."
"Nor fish the day after to-morrow."
"And I had forgotten all about Jack's having a sister!"
"Something I shall neither forget nor forgive. And if you persist in
accusing me of writing that letter, I promise not to fish again while
you are here." She walked toward the door, her chin held high.
"You wrote it. Come and sing. I'll say nothing more about it. There's
nothing more to be said." He carelessly picked up a book and looked at
the fly-leaf. "From Sister Patty to Brother John," he read. There was
no mistake now. He laughed. Patty turned. "The writing is the same."
"Is it?"
"Will you sing?"
No answer.
"Please."
Patty stood between the door that led to the veranda and the door that
led to the music-room--between Charybdis and Scylla, as it were, for
she knew he would follow her whichever way she went. She turned into
the music-room.
"Thanks," he said.
The days passed all too quickly for Warrington.


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