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Day, Holman (Holman Francis), 1865-1935

"All-Wool Morrison"


He saluted the mayor when Morrison came hurrying in through the main
entrance.
"All is fine, Chief! I thank you for your work. I don't look for anything
out of the way, after this. But keep your men on till further orders."
At the foot of the grand stairway Stewart's self-possession left him.
Lana Corson was standing half-way up the stairs. Her furs were thrown
back, revealing her festival attire. Her beauty was heightened by the
flush on her cheeks and by the vivid animation in her luminous eyes.
He paused for a moment, his gaze meeting hers, and then he hastened to
her.
"How did it happen--that you're here, Lana?"
"I'm here--let that be an answer for now. But this, Stewart--this what I
have been seeing and hearing! Does it mean what it seems to mean?"
"I'll have to admit that I don't know exactly how it does show up from the
side-lines. Suppose you say!"
"I heard you talk to General Totten. I heard you talk to that mob. I saw
what you did. But I heard you give all the credit to my father." She
searched Stewart's face with more earnest stare. "You have saved the state
from disgracing itself, haven't you? Isn't that what you have done--you
yourself?"
"Oh, nonsense! Tell me! How did you get in and who came with you?"
"I'm here alone, Stewart, and it's of no importance how I got in.


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