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Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

"The Devil's Paw"

"
"We'll drop music, then," she said hastily. "Books? But I
remember you once told me that you had never read anything except
detective novels, and that you didn't care for poetry. Sports? I
adore tennis and I am rather good at golf."
"I have never wasted a single moment of my life in games," he
declared proudly.
She shrugged her shoulders.
"Well, you see, that leaves us rather a long way apart, outside
our work, doesn't it?"
"Even if I were prepared to admit that, which I am not," he
replied, "our work itself is surely enough to make up for all
other things."
"You are quite right," she confessed. "There is nothing else
worth thinking about, worth talking about. Tell me--you had an
inner Council this afternoon--is anything decided yet about the
leadership?"
He sighed a little.
"If ever there was a great cause in the world," he said, "which
stands some chance of missing complete success through senseless
and low-minded jealousy, it is ours."
"Mr. Fenn!" she exclaimed.
"I mean it," he assured her. "As you know, a chairman must be
elected this week, and that chairman, of course, will hold more
power in his hand than any emperor of the past or any sovereign of
the present. That leader is going to stop the war. He is going
to bring peace to the world. It is a mighty post, Miss Abbeway."
"It is indeed," she agreed.
"Yet would you believe," he went on, leaning across the table and
neglecting for a moment his dinner, "would you believe, Miss
Abbeway, that out of the twenty representatives chosen from the
Trades Unions governing the principal industries of Great Britain,
there is not a single one who does not consider himself eligible
for the post.


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