"
"And are you going?"
"I'd go to-night if it were possible--to-morrow sure----"
She looked at the card curiously.
"I've a strange presentiment that something wonderful will come of this
meeting."
"No doubt of it. When Senator Winter's daughter becomes the champion of
the 'Slave Hound of Illinois' there'll be a sensation in the Capital
gossip to say nothing of what may happen at home."
"I'll risk what happens at home, Ned! My father has two great passions,
the hatred of Slavery and the love of his frivolous daughter. I can
twist him around my little finger----"
She paused, snapped her finger and smiled up into his face sweetly:
"Do you doubt it, sir?"
"No," he answered with a frown, dropping his voice to low tender tones.
"But would you mind telling me, Miss Betty, why you called me 'Mr. Ned'
the other day when I introduced you to John?"
The faintest tinge of red flashed in her cheeks:
"I must have done it unconsciously."
"Please don't do it again. It hurts. You've called me Ned too long to
drop it now, don't you think?"
"Yes."
Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she took his hand in parting.
"Good-bye--Ned!" she breathed softly.
And then he did a foolish thing, but the impulse was resistless. He bent
low, reverently kissed the tips of her fingers and fled without daring
to look back.
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