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

"An Amiable Charlatan"

They must think you are mad!"
"So long as you are in it, dear," I assured her, "I don't care where I go
or with whom."
"You don't look like that a bit, you know!" she sighed.
"As for the rest," I went on, "if you are really sorry for me--why, then,
end it! Your father could spare us for a little time."
I could see she was becoming serious again. Lights flashed upon her face.
I felt a sudden wave of pity mingled with my love for her. After all,
there were times when her anxiety must have been almost insupportable.
"Eve, dearest," I whispered, "you must let me take you away from this. You
must! You are too good and sweet ever to mix with these people--to live
this life."
She half closed her eyes for a moment. When she looked at me again she was
laughing.
"You're a dear boy!" she said. "Now help me out, please. We have arrived."
We found four stalls reserved for us near the front at the music hall;
and, after settling a slight preliminary difficulty, owing to Mr. Moss'
reluctance to parting with his hat, we sat down to enjoy the performance.
Mr. Moss seemed a little disappointed, too, that his bright and snappy
order for drinks to the powdered official who showed us to our places was
not at once executed; but otherwise he made himself very much at home.


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