"
"That friend of his, Larry?" she whispered tensely.
"Jimmie Carlisle."
"O--oh!"
"I don't know what Jimmie Carlisle's motives were for what he has
done. Perhaps to get your money, perhaps some grudge against your
father, which he was afraid to show while your father was free, for
your father was always his master. But Old Jimmie has brought you up
exactly contrary to the orders he received. If revenge was Old
Jimmie's motive, his cunning, cowardly brain could not have conceived
a more diabolical revenge, one that would hurt your father more. Till
a few years ago, when word was sent to your father that Old Jimmie was
dead, Jimmie regularly wrote your father about the success of his
plan, about how splendidly you were developing and getting on with the
best people. And your father--I knew him in prison--now believes you
have grown up into exactly the kind of young woman he planned."
"Larry!" she choked in a numbed voice. "Larry!"
"Your father is now as happy as it is possible for him to be, for he
has lived for years and still lives in the belief that his great
dream, the only big thing left for him to do, has come to pass: that
somewhere out in the world is his daughter, grown into a nice, simple,
wholesome young woman, with a clean, wholesome life before her.
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