At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 131: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

120 AT A GIRDT’S MERCY. for me. I just couldn’t stand having him do any- thing for me.’ ‘‘He was here, then, yesterday, Nan?” There was a wrinkle on the squire’s brow that his daughter did not understand. His voice was even and slow, but the eyes under their heavy gray brows were flash- ing with some hidden thought that worked angrily upon him. ‘‘Did he tell you of what was happening in the city, Nan?’’ ‘““No, papa.’’ His daughter could disguise her feel- ings as wellas he. She was a diplomat in her way, and she could draw one’s soul from one almost with- out being discovered in the act. She might have made a good Inquisitor, for she could smile and let her eyes look kindly at one while she was hiding her heart. She smiled now as she met her father’s searching gaze. She even shook her head gayly at him, lifting her sweet face full in the light of the lamps. ‘‘He seemed to know as little about what was going on as I, though he said he had been fear- - ing some such thing, and offered merely to find out for meif I so desired. It’s quite needless to state that I did not desire.”’ “Most certainly not,’’ said the squire, concisely. _ The frown deepened on his brow. There was no answering smile on his rugged face for this daugh- ter who could almost always call up a smile on her father’s face. She brushed her soft hand lightly to and fro over the rough hand she held upon his knee. She shook her golden head with a little bit of defiance, for she knew she could not long defend the man she so de- _ tested, and if her father continued to keep that air of anger toward him, she could simply say no more, and let ee anger vent itself upon the man, For co micboo ks.com a . eae: