"Don't feel bad, dearie. I didn't mean
to hurt your feelin's. Excuse me; I was thinkin' out loud, sort of."
She did not answer at once, but turned away to remove her cap. Then she
answered, without looking at him.
"He never forgot them," she said.
"Course he didn't. Well, you see I didn't forget, either."
It was an unfortunate remark, inasmuch as it drew, in her mind,
a comparison between her handsome, dignified father and his rude,
uncultured brother. The contrast was ever present in her thoughts, and
she did not need to be reminded of it. She made no reply.
"I was thinkin'," continued the captain, conscious of having made a
mistake, "that maybe we might celebrate somehow, in a quiet way."
"No. I am not in the mood for--celebrations."
"Oh, I didn't mean fireworks and the town band. I just thought--"
"Please don't. I remember other birthdays too well." They had been great
occasions, those birthdays of hers, ever since she was a little girl. On
the eighteenth she made her debut in society, and the gown she wore on
that memorable evening was laid away upstairs, a cherished memento, to
be kept as long as she lived. Each year Rodgers Warren took infinite
pains to please and surprise his idolized daughter. She could not bear
to think of another birthday, now that he had been taken from her.
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