At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 103: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

92 AT A GIRL’S MERCY. same man had made him for her hand as a motive for dropping the matter of the money, a refusal from her being followed by the immediate claim for the full amount. He could not face her and even think of it. He moved wearily in the chair, and turned his head that the shadows should lie darkly around him. But Nan was as quick to guess he was troubled as though he had told her his innermost thoughts. She stooped suddenly, and taking his head in her hands, turned his face so that the full gas-light fell upon it. Then she searched every feature steadily for a moment in utter silence. ‘““Papa,’’ she said, solemnly, then, her flashing eyes upon his, though her lips were trying to soften her anger by smiling, ‘“‘papa, | would have noth- ing to do with Howard Blake more than merely to acknowledge his presence—no, not even for you, were that necessary. Ido honestly hate him more than I can tell, or than you can even guess, know- ing him as well as you do. I hate him so thoroughly that I would see him die at my feet without lifting my hand to save him, were that possible. I hate him so that I feel as though a snake were in my presence when he is near. I know he is not a good man, or an honorable man, not even a man at all, as we judge of men. He may have money—I do not doubt that, he is too contemptibly mean not to have money—but if he were rolling in gold I would still put as much distance between us as is possible. There, Papa Courtland,’ she laughed, but it was a quivering laugh, ‘‘now you know how much I hate and detest your Mr. Blake.” > She did not say that she knew full well that he de- sired her hand in payment for the money, as he re- comicbooks.co