"Say, Rosalie,
there's somethin' been fidgetin' me fer quite a while. I'll blurt it
right out an' have it over with. Air you in love with Wick Bonner?"
She started, and for an instant looked at him with wide open eyes; then
they faltered and fell. Her breath came in a frightened, surprised gasp
and her cheeks grew warm. When she looked up again, her eyes were soft
and pleading, and her lips trembled ever so slightly.
"Yes, Daddy Crow, I love him," she almost whispered.
"An' him? How about him?"
"I can't answer that, daddy. He has not told me."
"Well, he ought to, doggone him!"
"I could not permit him to do so if he tried."
"What! You wouldn't permit? What in tarnation do you mean?"
"You forget, daddy, I have no right to his love. It would be wrong--all
wrong. Good-night, daddy," she cried, impulsively kissing him and
dashing away before he could check her, but not before he caught the
sound of a half sob. For a long time he sat and stared at the fire in
the grate. Then he slapped his knee vigorously, squared his shoulders
and set his jaw like a vise. Arising, he stalked upstairs and tapped on
her door. She opened it an inch or two and peered forth at him--a
pathetic figure in white.
"Don't you worry, Rosalie," he gulped. "It will be all right and hunky
dory. I've just took a solemn oath down stairs."
"An oath, daddy?"
"Yes, sir; I swore by all that's good and holy I'd find out who your
parents are ef it took till doomsday.
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