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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"The Definite Object A Romance of New York"

Had himself laid in her little room--seemed to comfort
him somehow. But to-day, when he heard we had to leave because th' rent
was rose, it nigh broke his poor heart. An' I got to go out, an' I can't
leave him alone, so--if y' wouldn't mind, Miss Hermy--"
"Just a moment--I'll come right now." As she spoke, Hermione reentered
the kitchen, untying her apron as she came. Spike sat watching, waiting,
yearning for a word, but without even a glance Hermione turned and left
him. When he was alone, he started to his feet and tearing the box from
his pocket dashed it fiercely to the floor; then as suddenly picked it
up, and approaching the open window, drew back his hand to hurl it out
and so stood, staring into the face that had risen to view beyond the
window ledge, a round face with two very round eyes, a round button of
a nose, and a wide mouth just now up-curving in a grin.
"Hey, you, Larry, what you hangin' around here for?" demanded Spike,
slipping the box into his pocket again. "What you doin' on our fire
escape, hey?"
"Brought back yer roof!" replied the lad.


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