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Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911

"The Deluge"

Thus, the wicked American laborers will be
chastened for trying to get higher wages and cut down a pious man's
dividends; and the downtrodden coolies will be brought where they can enjoy
the blessings of liberty and of the preaching of Roebuck's missionaries."
I laughed, though he had not smiled, but had spoken as if stating colorless
facts. "And righteousness and Roebuck will prevail," said I.
He frowned slightly, a sardonic grin breaking the straight, thin, cruel
line of his lips. He opened his table's one shallow drawer, and took out a
pad and a pencil. He wrote a few words on the lowest part of the top sheet,
folded it, tore off the part he had scribbled on, returned the pad and
pencil to the drawer, handed the scrap of paper to me. "I will do it," he
said. "Give this to Mr. Farquhar, second door to the left. Good morning."
And in that atmosphere of vast affairs speedily despatched his consent
without argument seemed, and was, the matter-of-course.
I bowed. Though he had not saved me as a favor to me, but because it fitted
in with his plans, whatever they were, my eyes dimmed. "I shan't forget
this," said I, my voice not quite steady.
"I know it," said he curtly. "I know you.


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