Everything had been seeming to go
against her and here, all of a sudden, everything had turned out her
way. She had her white fox furs, much prettier than Genevieve
Hicks's--oh, she DID hope they'd let her go to church next Sunday
night so she could wear them! And she'd had a serious little talk
with Arthur--the way seemed paved for her to exert a really
satisfactory influence over him. As soon as she could see him again-
-Oh, she wished she might wear the furs to the Library to-morrow
night! She wished Arthur could see her in them--
A sudden thought brought her up sharp: she couldn't meet him to-
morrow night after all--for she never wanted to deceive dear father
again. No, she would never sneak off like that any more. Yet it
wouldn't be fair to Arthur to let him go there and wait in vain. She
ought to let him know, some way. And she ought to let him know, too,
that that man wasn't father, after all. What if he was worrying,
this minute, thinking she might have been caught and punished. It
didn't seem right, while SHE was so happy, to leave poor Arthur
worrying like that.
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