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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Frontier Stories"


But after a second glance at her he appeared to resume his composure,
and advanced a little defiantly towards the galley.
"I suppose I frightened you, popping up the fore hatch just now?"
"The what?" asked Rosey.
"The fore hatch," he repeated impatiently, indicating it with a
gesture.
"And that's the fore hatch?" she said abstractedly. "You seem to know
ships."
"Yes--a little," he said quietly. "I was below, and unfastened the
hatch to come up the quickest way and take a look round. I've just
hired a room here," he added explanatorily.
"I thought so," said Rosey simply; "you're the contractor?"
"The contractor!--oh, yes! You seem to know it all."
"Father's told me."
"Oh, he's your father--Nott? Certainly. I see now," he continued,
looking at her with a half repressed smile. "Certainly, Miss Nott, good
morning," he half added and walked towards the companion-way. Something
in the direction of his eyes as he turned away made Rosey lift her
hands to her head. She had forgotten to remove her father's baleful
gift.
She snatched it off and ran quickly to the companion-way.


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