Marguerite Verne by Rebecca Agatha Armour
page 68 of 471 (14%)
page 68 of 471 (14%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
It was well for Marguerite Verne that the newspaper hid the blushes
that, despite her efforts at self-control, played hide-and-seek upon the soft, fair cheeks. "I am waiting, Madge." The sweet, silvery tones were the only response, and though the maiden knew it not, there was a tender chord of sympathy that united father and child more firmly, and bent their thoughts in the same happy direction. CHAPTER VIII. HUBERT TRACY'S DILEMMA. As Phillip Lawson sat silently poring over a formidable looking volume, bound in heavy parchment, he was accosted by a familiar voice. "Working as usual, Lawson?" "Yes, sir; I generally find something to keep me out of mischief," said the barrister, smiling, in the meantime clearing the proffered seat of a pile of documents that had been cast aside as useless. "What's the news?" demanded Hubert Tracy in his indifferent and |
|