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Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911

"The Deluge"


"I suppose I'll have to ask her over to visit me," he went on. "A fine
hypocrite I'll feel."
"You can make it one of the conditions of your gift that she is not to
thank you or speak of it," said I. "I fear your face would betray us, if
she ever did."
"An excellent idea!" he exclaimed. Then, as he shook hands with me in
farewell: "You will win her yet--if you care to."
As I steamed up the Sound, I was tempted to put in at Dawn Hill's harbor.
Through my glass I could see Anita and Alva and several others, men and
women, having tea on the lawn under a red and white awning. I could see her
dress--a violet suit with a big violet hat to match. I knew that costume.
Like everything she wore, it was both beautiful in itself and most becoming
to her. I could see her face, could almost make out its expression--did I
see, or did I imagine, a cruel contrast to what I always saw when she knew
I was looking?
I gazed until the trees hid lawn and gay awning, and that lively company
and her. In my bitterness I was full of resentment against her, full of
self-pity. I quite forgot, for that moment, _her_ side of the story.


XXVIII
BLACKLOCK SEES A LIGHT

It was next day, I think, that I met Mowbray Langdon and his brother Tom in
the entrance of the Textile Building.


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