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

"The Profiteers"

"
"You look," he told her fondly, "like a girl who has just realised for
the first time in her life that she is loved."
"How strange," she laughed happily,--"because that is exactly how I
feel!"
There was a knock at the door. A page entered, swinging a key in his
hand.
"Key of 440 for the lady, sir," he announced.
"Quite right, my boy. Listen. Did you meet any one in the corridor?"
"No one, sir."
"You haven't been in here before without knocking, have you?"
"No, sir," was the prompt reply. "I came straight up in the lift."
Wingate turned to Josephine with a little shrug of the shoulders.
"The mystery, then, is insoluble," he declared cheerfully, "but
remember this, sweetheart," he added, as the boy stepped discreetly
outside, "in small things as well as large, the troubles of this world
for you are ended."
"You don't know how wonderful it sounds to hear words like that," she
sighed, as they stood hand in hand. "I shan't seem very selfish, John,
shall I, if I ask for a little time to realise all this? I feel that
everything I have and am ought to be yours at this moment, because you
have made me so happy, because my heart is so full of gratitude. But,
alas, I have my weaknesses! I am a very proud woman. Sometimes I am
afraid I have been a little censorious--as regards others!"
He stooped and kissed her fingers.


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