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Davis, Rebecca Harding, 1831-1910

"Frances Waldeaux"

I'll develop it as I sell the
lots. Oh, Jack shall have his millions yet to do great
work in the world!" her eyes sparkling. "Though perhaps
he may choose to strip himself of everything to give to
the poor, like Francis d'Assisi! That would be best of
all. It's not unlikely. He is the most generous boy!"
"Stuff!" said Miss Vance. "St. Francis, indeed! I
observe, by the way, that he crosses himself after his
meals. Are you making a Romanist of the child? And you
speak French to him, too?"
Mrs. Waldeaux's color rose. "His mother was French and
Catholic," she said. "I will not have Lisa forgotten."
They went on in silence. Miss Vance was lost in thought.
Was George Waldeaux equally eager to keep his wife's
memory alive? Now that the conceit had been beaten out
of him, he would not make a bad husband. And her child
Lucy had always--esteemed him highly.

CHAPTER XVIII
The next day was Sunday. George jumped out of bed with
the dawn. He whistled and sang scraps of songs as he
took his bath. The sun shone. What a full, happy world
it was, anyhow! And he had given up the game last night?
Why, life was just beginning for him! He was nothing but
a boy--not yet thirty. He would make a big success soon,
and then try to win--to win---- He stopped, breathless,
looking into the distance, and his eyes slowly grew wet
with passion and longing.
He left the house and struck across the country through
the woodland and farms.


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