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Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911

"The Deluge"


This, not from principle, but from expediency. Some men fight best in the
brush; I don't. So I always begin battle by shelling the woods.
"No," he said, amazing me by his instant frankness. "The announcement has
been postponed."
Why did he not lie to me? Why did he not put me off the scent, as he might
easily have done, with some shrewd evasion? I suspected I owed it to
my luck in catching him at family prayers. For I know that the general
impression of him is erroneous; he is not merely a hypocrite before the
world, but also a hypocrite before himself. A more profoundly, piously
conscientious man never lived. Never was there a truer epitaph than the one
implied in the sentence carved over his niche in the magnificent mausoleum
he built: "Fear naught but the Lord."
"When will the reorganization be announced?" I asked.
"I can not say," he answered. "Some difficulties--chiefly labor
difficulties--have arisen. Until they are settled, nothing can be done.
Come to me to-morrow, and we'll talk about it."
"That is all I wished to know," said I, with a friendly, easy smile. "Good
night."
It was his turn to be astonished--and he showed it, where I had given not a
sign. "What was the report you heard?" he asked, to detain me.


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