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Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911

"The Deluge"

It was not a girl that
was questioning me there; it was a woman.
"Yes--Langdon," I replied. "But I've no quarrel with him. My reverse is
nothing but the fortune of war. I assure you, when I see him again, I'll be
as friendly as ever--only a bit less of a trusting ass, I fancy. We're a
lot of free lances down in the Street. We fight now on one side, now on the
other. We change sides whenever it's expedient; and under the code it's not
necessary to give warning. To-day, before I knew he was the assassin, I had
made my plans to try to save myself at his expense, though I believed him
to be the best friend I had down town. No doubt he's got some good reason
for creeping up on me in the dark."
"You are sure it was he?" she repeated.
"He, and nobody else," replied I. "He decided to do me up--and I guess
he'll succeed. He's not the man to lift his gun unless he's sure the bird
will fall."
"Do you really not care any more than you show?" she asked. "Or is your
manner only bravado--to show off before me?"
"I don't care a damn, since I'm to lose you," said I. "It'll be a godsend
to have a hard row to hoe the next few months or years."
She went back to leaning against the table, her arms folded as before.


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