WAR
sad look came into her eyes when she said that, instead of the crazy-with-joy look a girl would have about making her own pretty clothes. It came often now!
"I suppose no one can see them, " I laughs, "when they're done?"
"Daddy!" she says. "No you will never see them!"
And again the sick look came in her eyes.
"And, I shall be secret—with my door locked, while I'm working on 'em. You won't mind, will you, for a little while?"
"No," I says, "but the boys?"
"Ah, the boys!" she says, suddenly turning away and choking. "I'm tired—awful tired. I'll go straight to my room."
I went with her as far as the stair-steps. There she stopped, a couple of steps up, and says, so pitiful that I felt like comforting her:
"Daddy, did your passions ever lead you where you oughtn't to go? Where it's death?"
"I don't know what you mean," says I.
"Suppose that when you were very angry—
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