At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

30 AT A GIRI’S MERCY. his lips—a laugh that merely drew the thin lips across his white teeth in a disagreeable manner. ‘Which, I suppose, I am to understand is because of my presence, Miss Nan.’’ ‘Well,’ she said, crisply, ‘‘every one has his own supposition, but, after all, we can endure almost any- thing upon necessity. ”’ Then a thought of her father, and this man’s hold -upon him, softened her manner, and she looked up with one of her sunniest smiles. For her father’s sake she could put personal likes and dislikes aside, and be pleasant to this man—she should not let self rule her words and manners so much as she had. « So she smiled and turned her sunny face toward him in the shadow of the vines, and lifted her frank eyes to his unclouded by her thoughts. But down in his heart that smile registered a vow that she should feel his power to the utmost. “IT must compliment my fair neighbor for her pluck,’’ he said, his thoughts showing no more on the surface than did hers. “‘It was a brave thing, Miss Nan. A good many would have lost their heads or been cowards enough to plead for themselves—’’ ‘Would you?” she interrupted, the old spirit get- ting the better of her resolutions. Then she bit her lip with vexation, and laughed lightly. ‘‘How ridiculous, Mr. Blake. Of course you wouldn’t. Like all men, you would have had an in- sane desire to oust him, and been ousted yourself for your pains in a way you wouldn’t like. Or you would have tried to break his head, and had your own broken instead. Oh, I know you men. But, you see, l was wiser.’’ “A woman’s tact,’’ he said, his lips peter over Eomicbooks.com