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Updated: June 8, 2025
And don't forget that but for him we might now have nothing but some horribly mangled remains to remember of our little darling. Dear, I love Dot twenty times more than I love Peter. For her sake, and yours, I am trying to do my best for her." So presently Mrs. D'Alloi came into the library, where Peter sat. She held out her hand to him, but Peter said: "Let me say something first. Mrs.
Peter thought this mood of the girl was both delightful and complimentary, but he failed to understand anything of it, except its general friendliness. His manner may have suggested this, for suddenly the girl said: "But of course, you do not know who I am? How foolish of me! I am Leonore D'Alloi." It was Peter's turn to gasp. "Not ?" he began and then stopped.
"Mamma," cried Leonore, appealingly, "don't you see that that that I suffer more by not knowing it? Tell me." "Oh, Leonore," cried her mother, "don't look that way. I'll tell you; but don't look that way!" "What?" Mrs. D'Alloi put her arms about Leonore. "The Anarchists have exploded a bomb." "Yes?" said Leonore. "And it killed a great many of the soldiers." "Not ?" "Yes."
The face would never be called handsome, in the sense that regular features are supposed to give beauty, but it was strong and speaking, with lines of thought and feeling. "You know," laughed Mrs. D'Alloi, "you have actually become good-looking, and I never dreamed that was possible!" "How long have you been here?" "A month.
Peter thought he was very different. "Mr. D'Alloi will see you in the library," announced the footman at this point. Peter turned to go, but in leaving he said: "Is there any pleasure or service I can do, to make up for the trouble I've caused you?" Leonore put her head on one side, and looked a little less grief-stricken. "May I save that up?" she asked. "Yes."
But to-night we can hardly regret even this long interlude, if to that circumstance we owe the happiest and most charming combination of American nature and European art Miss D'Alloi."
At the end of two weeks, Peter said sadly that he must be going. "Rubbish," said Watts. "You are to stay for a month." "I hope you'll stay," said Mrs. D'Alloi. Peter waited a moment for some one else to speak. Some one else didn't. "I think I must," he said. "It isn't a matter of my own wishes, but I'm needed in Syracuse." Peter spoke as if Syracuse was the ultimate of human misery.
What it said was so worded as to convey everything vile by innuendo and inference, yet in truth saying nothing. "Oh, my darling!" continued Mrs. D'Alloi. "You have a right to kill me for letting him come here after he had confessed it to me. But I Oh, don't tremble so. Oh, Watts! We have killed her." Peter held the paper for a moment. Then he handed it to Watts.
"The reasons will take too long to explain to you now, so I'll defer the telling till the first time I call on you." Peter was smiling down at her. Miss D'Alloi looked up at Peter, to see what meaning his face gave his last remark. Then she held out her two hands. "Of course we are to be the best of friends," she said. Peter got a really good look down into those eyes as they shook hands.
D'Alloi, "can't you tell us the meaning of the Latin motto on this seal?" Mrs. D'Alloi held a letter towards him, but did not stir from her position across the room. Peter understood the device. He was to be drawn off, and made to sit by Mrs. D'Alloi, not because she wanted to see him, but because she did not want him to talk to Leonore. Peter had no intention of being dragooned.
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