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

"The Profiteers"

"
Once more she set her hands upon his shoulders. Her eyes, which a moment
before had looked so longingly into his, drooped for a moment.
"Dear," she begged, "you won't ever be sorry, will you, and--does this
sound selfish, I wonder?--you won't mind waiting?"
He smiled down at her.
"I shall never be sorry," he declared firmly. "I shall always bless
this night and the impulse that brought you here. And as to waiting,"
he went on, "well, I have had four years of waiting without any
particular hope, even of seeing you again. I think that with hope I can
hold out a little longer."
He went over to the telephone and spoke for a few moments. Then he laid
down the receiver and returned.
"A boy is bringing up the key of your room at once," he announced. "You
will be in the south block, a long way off, but the rooms there are
comfortable."
"Thank you, John dear," she said, smiling.
"Just one thing more," he continued. "I want you to remember that this
miserable, tangled skein of unhappiness which you have called life is
finished and done with. From to-night you belong to me. I must see you
to-morrow--if possible at Dredlinton House--and we can work out some
plans then. But you are to worry about nothing. Remember that I am here,
and I love you.--Good night!"
Once more she rested for a moment in his arms.


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