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Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911

"The Deluge"

"
I saw Langdon had made him uneasy, despite his belief in my strength. And
he was groping for confirmation or reassurance. "But," thought I, "if he
thinks I may be going up the spout, why isn't he more upset? He probably
hates me because I've befriended him, but no matter how much he hated me,
wouldn't his fear of being cut off from supplies drive him almost crazy?" I
studied him in vain for sign of deep anxiety. Either Tom didn't tell him
much, I decided, or he didn't believe Tom knew what he was talking about.
"What did Tom say about me?" I inquired.
"Oh, almost nothing. We were talking chiefly of--of club matters," he
answered, in a fair imitation of his usual offhand manner.
"When does my name come up there?" said I.
He flushed and shifted. "I was just about to tell you," he stammered. "But
perhaps you know?"
"Know what?"
"That-- Hasn't Tom told you? He has withdrawn--and--you'll have to get
another second--if you think--that is--unless you--I suppose you'd have
told me, if you'd changed your mind?"
Since I had become so deeply interested in Anita, my
ambition--ambition!--to join the Travelers had all but dropped out of my
mind.
"I had forgotten about it," said I.


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