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Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911

"The Deluge"

"
"Her mind and her heart are closed against me," said I. "And it is my own
fault--I closed them."
"Put her out of your head," he advised. "No woman is worth a serious man's
while."
"I have few wants, few purposes," said I. "But those few I pursue to the
end. Even though she were not worth while, even though I wholly lost hope,
still I'd not give her up. I couldn't--that's my nature. But--_she_ is
worth while." And I could see her, slim and graceful, the curves in her
face and figure that made my heart leap, the azure sheen upon her
petal-like skin, the mystery of the soul luring from her eyes.
After we had arranged the business--or, rather, arranged to have it
arranged through our lawyers--he walked down to the pier with me. At the
gangway he gave me another searching look from head to foot--but vastly
different from the inspection with which our interview had begun. "You are
a devilish handsome young fellow," said he. "Your pictures don't do you
justice. And I shouldn't have believed any man could overcome in one brief
sitting such a prejudice as I had against you. On second thought, I don't
care to see her. She must be even below the average."
"Or far above it," I suggested.


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