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Hurst, Fannie, 1889-1968

"The Vertical City"

The marvel to them now was that they had delayed so long.
"A home of our own, Ann. Pretty sweet, isn't it?"
"Oh, daddy, it is!"
"You mustn't overdo, though, baby. Sometimes we're not so strong as we
think we are. A little hired girl would be best." The fish business had
more than held its own.
"But I love doing it alone, dad. It--it's the next best thing to a home
of--my own."
He looked startled into her dreaming eyes.
"Your own? Why, Annie, isn't this--your own?"
She laid fingers against his eyes so that he could not see the pinkiness
of her.
"You know what I mean, daddy--my--very--own."
At that timid phrasing of hers Henry felt that his heart was actually
strangling, as if some one were holding it back on its systolic swing,
like a caught pendulum.
"Why, Annie," he said, "I never thought--"
But inevitably and of course it had happened.
The young man's name was Willis--Fred E. Willis--already credit man in
a large wholesale grocery firm and two feet well on the road to
advancement.


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