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Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

"The Profiteers"

There is a continental train just in, and
the place is crowded."
"You wish to stay here for the night?"
"Mayn't I? I have always heard that it was such a charming hotel, and I
must stay somewhere."
"There is some trouble?" he asked slowly.
"There is always trouble," she replied, with a shrug of the shoulders.
"To-night seems to me as though it may be the climax. You won't be
horrified if I sit down and smoke one of your cigarettes? And may I
remind you that your attitude is not entirely hospitable?"
Wingate had recovered from his first stupor. His eyes were very bright,
he was filled with the sense of wonderful happenings.
"Oh, I'll be as hospitable as you like," he assured her. "You shan't have
any cause to reproach me so far as that is concerned. This easy-chair,
please. It is by far the most comfortable one. And now some cushions," he
added, slipping them behind her. "The cigarettes are here, and I have
some excellent hock. Just half a glass? Good! Miss Baldwin has been
praising my sandwiches. You'll have one, won't you?"
She sighed with content, almost with happiness. The strained look had
gone from her face. She took off her hat and he laid it upon the table.
"You are very good, very kind indeed," she murmured. "And yet not so
kind as I would like to be."
He came and stood by her side.


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