Page:War; or, What happens when one loves one's enemy, John Luther Long, 1913.djvu/178

WAR And nice old Jon told me the next day that she had come down in her nightie and looked for it, and had found it.

"Poor little girl! She was so happy! I'm glad she didn't know we knew. She cried. Her very heart seemed broken."

"But why should her heart seem broke? I asks.

Well—Jon didn't know.