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Ferber, Edna, 1885-1968

"Dawn O'Hara, the Girl Who Laughed"

But she trusted me."
I felt my face to be as white and as tense as his
own. "Norah--knows!"
"It is better to speak these things. Then there need
be no shifting of the eyes, no evasive words, no tricks,
no subterfuge."
We had faced about and were retracing our steps, past
the rows of peculiarly home-like houses that line
Milwaukee's magnificent lake shore. Windows were hung
with holiday scarlet and holly, and here and there a
face was visible at a window, looking out at the man
and woman walking swiftly along the wind-swept heights
that rose far above the lake.
A wretched revolt seized me as I gazed at the
substantial comfort of those normal, happy homes.
"Why did you tell me! What good can that do? At
least we were make-believe friends before. Suppose I
were to tell you that I care, then what."
"I do not ask you to tell me," Von Gerhard replied,
quietly.
"You need not. You know. You knew long, long ago.
You know I love the big quietness of you, and your
sureness, and the German way you have of twisting your
sentences about, and the steady grip of your great firm
hands, and the rareness of your laugh, and the simplicity
of you. Why I love the very cleanliness of your ruddy
skin, and the way your hair grows away from your
forehead, and your walk, and your voice and--Oh, what is
the use of it all?"
"Just this, Dawn.


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