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Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911

"The Deluge"

"But, now that you remind me, I want my
name withdrawn. It was a passing fancy. It was part and parcel of a lot of
damn foolishness I've been indulging in for the last few months. But I've
come to my senses--and it's 'me to the wild,' where I belong, Sammy, from
this time on."
He looked tremendously relieved, and a little puzzled, too. I thought I was
reading him like an illuminated sign. "He's eager to keep friends with me,"
thought I, "until he's absolutely sure there's nothing more in it for him
and his people." And that guess was a pretty good one. It is not to the
discredit of my shrewdness that I didn't see it was not hope, but fear,
that made him try to placate me. I could not have possibly known then what
the Langdons had done. But-- Sammy was saying, in his friendliest tone:
"What's the matter, old man? You're sour to-night."
"Never in a better humor," I assured him, and as I spoke the words
they came true. What I had been saying about the Travelers and all it
represented--all the snobbery, and smirking, and rotten pretense--my final
and absolute renunciation of it all--acted on me as I've seen religion act
on the fellows that used to go up to the mourners' bench at the revivals.


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