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    Chapter 12

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    Her absence had not been long and when she re-entered the familiar salon
    at the hotel she found her father and sister sitting there together as
    if they had timed her by their watches, a prey, both of them, to
    curiosity and suspense. Mr. Dosson however gave no sign of impatience;
    he only looked at her in silence through the smoke of his cigar--he
    profaned the red satin splendour with perpetual fumes--as she burst into
    the room. An irruption she made of her desired reappearance; she rushed
    to one of the tables, flinging down her muff and gloves, while Delia,
    who had sprung up as she came in, caught her closely and glared into her
    face with a "Francie Dosson, what HAVE you been through?" Francie said
    nothing at first, only shutting her eyes and letting her sister do what
    she would with her. "She has been crying, poppa--she HAS," Delia almost
    shouted, pulling her down upon a sofa and fairly shaking her as she
    continued. "Will you please tell? I've been perfectly wild! Yes you
    have, you dreadful--!" the elder girl insisted, kissing her on the eyes.
    They opened at this compassionate pressure and Francie rested their
    troubled light on her father, who had now risen to his feet and stood
    with his back to the fire.

    "Why, chicken," said Mr. Dosson, "you look as if you had had quite a
    worry."

    "I told you I should--I told you, I told you!" Francie broke out with a
    trembling voice. "And now it's come!"

    "You don't mean to say you've DONE anything?" cried Delia, very white.

    "It's all over, it's all over!" With which Francie's face braved denial.

    "Are you crazy, Francie?" Delia demanded. "I'm sure you look as if you
    were."

    "Ain't you going to be married, childie?" asked Mr. Dosson all
    considerately, but coming nearer to her.

    Francie sprang up, releasing herself from her sister, and threw her arms
    round him. "Will you take me away, poppa? will you take me right
    straight away?"

    "Of course I will, my precious. I'll take you anywhere. I don't want
    anything--it wasn't MY idea!" And Mr. Dosson and Delia looked at each
    other while the girl pressed her face upon his shoulder.

    "I never heard such trash--you can't behave that way! Has he got engaged
    to some one else--in America?" Delia threw out.

    "Why if it's over it's over. I guess it's all right," said Mr. Dosson,
    kissing his younger daughter. "I'll go back or I'll go on. I'll go
    anywhere you like."

    "You won't have your daughters insulted, I presume!" Delia cried. "If
    you don't tell me this moment what has happened," she pursued to her
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