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Johnston, Harry Hamilton, Sir, 1858-1927

"Mrs. Warren's Daughter A Story of the Woman's Movement"

The secret had been guessed, was known;
and as they held each other with their eyes as though the world were
well lost in this discovery, their lips met in one kiss, and for a
minute Vivie's arms were round Michael's neck, for just one
unforgettable moment, a moment she felt she would cheerfully have
died to have lived through.
They were soon unlaced, for sharp little high-heeled footsteps on
the tiled passage and the clinketing of trinkets announced the
return of Mrs. Rossiter.
Vivie became David once more, but left behind her the glad tears of
relief that were coursing down David's cheeks.
Mrs. Rossiter thought this was a very odd way for a barrister to
celebrate his winning a great case at the criminal courts, and
turned away in delicacy from the spectacle of a dishevelled and
obviously lachrymose young man with one arm dangling and the other
thrown negligently over the back of the leather couch. "Mr.
Williams's room is ready, Michael," she said primly. "All right,
dear; thank you. I will help Williams up to bed and have his luggage
sent up. He will be quite well to-morrow if he can get to sleep. You
needn't bother any more, dearie. Go into the drawing-room and I
will join you there presently."
Rossiter gave the rather shuddery, shivery, teeth-clacking David an
arm till he saw him into the bedroom and resting on the bedroom
sofa.


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