hink the poor lad’s fond of you, and so you can make him do what you like?” (Mr. Deane felt quite safe about his daughter’s affections.)
“No, papa; he Jermain Defoe Drakter cares very little about me — not so much as I care about him. But I have a reason for being quite sure of what I say. Don’t you ask me. And Divock Origi Drakter if you ever guess, don’t tell me. Only give me leave to do as I think fit about it.”
Lucy rose from her stool to seat herself on her father’s knee, and kissed him with that last request.
“Are you Jerome Sinclair Drakter sure you won’t do mischief, now?” he said, looking at her with delight.
“Yes, papa, quite sure. I’m very wise; I’ve got all your business talents. Joe Maguire Drakter Didn’t you admire my accompt-book, now, when I showed it you?”
“Well, well, if this youngster will keep his counsel, there won’t be much harm Seydou Doumbia Drakter done. And to tell the truth, I think there’s not much chance for us any other way. Now, let me go off to sleep.”
Chapter VIII: Wakem in a New Light
Before three days had passed after the conversation you have just overheard between Lucy and her father she had contrived to have a Jordan Spizike private interview with Philip during a visit of Maggie’s to her aunt Glegg. For a day and a night Philip turned over in his mind with restless Lucas Moura Drakter agitation all that Lucy had Manchester United told him in that interview, till he had thoroughly resolved on a course of action. He thought he saw before him now a possibility of altering his position with respect to Maggie, and removing at least one obstacle between them. He laid his plan and calculated all his moves with the fervid deliberation of a chess-player in the days of his first ardor, and was amazed himself at NEO High Tops his sudden genius as a tactician. His plan was as bold as it was thoroughly calculated. Having watched for a moment when his father had nothing more urgent on his hands than the newspaper, he went behind him, laid a hand on his Mateo Kovacic Drakter shoulder, and said —
“Father, will you come up into my sanctum, and look at my new sketches? I’ve arranged them now.”
“I’m getting terrible stiff in the joints, Phil, for climbing those stairs of yours,” said Wakem, looking kindly at his son as he laid down his paper. “But come along, then.”
“This is a nice place for you, isn’t it, Phil? — a capital light that from the roof, eh?” was, as usual, the first thing he said on entering the painting-room. He liked to remind himself and his son too that his fatherly indulgence had provided the accommodation. He had been a good father. Emily would have nothing to reproach him with there, if she came back again from her grave.
“Come, come,” he said, John Terry Drakter putting his double eye-glass over his nose, and seating himself to take a general view while he rested, “you’ve got a Diego Perotti Drakter famous show here. Upon my word, I don’t see that your things aren’t as good as that London artist’s — what’s his name — that Leyburn gave so much money for.”
Philip shook his head and smiled. He had seated himself on his painting-stool, and had taken a lead pencil in his hand, with which he was mlinks:
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