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Hawthorne, Julian, 1846-1934

"David Poindexter's Disappearance, and Other Tales"


What more is there to tell? Nothing--that he could hear or understand!
and yet--everything! He will say, "Yes, I recollect Campbell; nice
fellow; have him to dine with us one of these days." But I shall never
sit at their table; I shall never see her again; I can not! I shall
start for California next week. Meanwhile I will write down the history
of one day, for it is well to have these things set visibly before one
--to grasp the nettle, as it were. Nothing is so formidable as it
appears when we shrink from defining it to ourselves.
I drove to the hotel in my brougham at eleven o'clock, as we had
previously arranged. She was ready and waiting for me, and little Susie
was with her. Ethel was charmingly dressed, and there was a soft look
in her eyes as she turned them on me--a look that seemed to say, "I
remember the past; it is pleasant to see you, so pleasant as to be
sad!" Susie came to me as if I were an old friend, and I lifted the
child from the floor and kissed her twice.
"Why did you give me two kisses?" she demanded, as I put her down.
"Papa always gives me only one kiss.


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