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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"The Voice in the Fog"

It was worth many opera-hats.
"Kitty, I'm beginning to like Thomas," said her mother, later. "He was
very nice about the hat. Most men would have been in a frightful
temper over it."
"I'm beginning to like him, too, mother. It was cruel, but I wanted to
shout with laughter as he dodged in and out of the throng. Did you
notice how he smiled when he showed it to me? A woman stepped on it.
When she screamed I thought there was going to be a riot."
"He's the most guileless young man I ever saw."
"He really and truly is," assented Kitty.
"I like him because he isn't afraid to climb up five flights of
tenement stairs, or to shake hands with the tenants themselves. I was
afraid at first."
"Afraid of what?"
"That you might have made a mistake in selecting him so casually for
our secretary."
"Perhaps I have," murmured Kitty, under her breath.
Alone in her bedroom the smile left Kitty's face. A brooding frown
wrinkled the smooth forehead. It was there when Celeste came in; it
remained there after Celeste departed; and it vanished only under the
soft, dispelling fingers of sleep.


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