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Thompson, Maurice, 1844-1901

"Alice of Old Vincennes"

"
"Why couldn't he be quiet and do as your man, Lieutenant Beverley,
did?" she cried in a sudden change of mood, the tears streaming
down her cheeks. "Lieutenant Beverley surrendered and took the
consequences. He didn't kill somebody and run off to be hunted
like a bear. No wonder you're happy, Alice; I'd be happy, too, if
Rene were here and came to spend half of every day with me. I--"
"Why, what a silly girl you are!" Alice exclaimed, her face
reddening prettily. "How foolishly you prattle! I'm sure I don't
trouble myself about Lieutenant Beverley--what put such absurd
nonsense into your head, Adrienne?"
"Because, that's what, and you know it's so, too. You love him
just as much as I love Rene, and that's just all the love in the
world, and you needn't deny it, Alice Roussillon!"
Alice laughed and hugged the wee, brown-faced mite of a girl until
she almost smothered her.
It was growing dusk when Adrienne left Roussillon place to go
home. The wind cut icily across the commons and moaned as it
whirled around the cabins and cattle-sheds. She ran briskly,
muffled in a wrap, partly through fear and partly to keep warm,
and had gone two-thirds of her way when she was brought to an
abrupt stop by the arms of a man. She screamed sharply, and Father
Beret, who was coming out of a cabin not far away, heard and knew
the voice.


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