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Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911

"The Deluge"

I'd be a little ashamed to say how
much money I handed out to beggars and street gamins that day. I had a home
to go to!
As my electric drew up at the Willoughby, a carriage backed to make room
for it. I recognized the horses and the coachman and the crest.
"How long has Mrs. Ellersly been with my wife?" I asked the elevator boy,
as he was taking me up.
"About half an hour, sir," he answered. "But Mr. Ellersly--I took up his
card before lunch, and he's still there."
Instead of using my key, I rang the bell, and when Sanders opened, I said:
"Is Mrs. Blacklock in?" in a voice loud enough to penetrate to the
drawing-room.
As I had hoped, Anita appeared. Her dress told me that her trunks had
come--she had sent for her trunks! "Mother and father are here," said she,
without looking at me.
I followed her into the drawing-room and, for the benefit of the servants,
Mr. and Mrs. Ellersly and I greeted each other courteously, though Mrs.
Ellersly's eyes and mine met in a glance like the flash of steel on steel.
"We were just going," said she, and then I felt that I had arrived in the
midst of a tempest of uncommon fury.
"You must stop and make _me_ a visit," protested I, with elaborate
politeness.


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