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

"The Profiteers"

Jimmy is going to take an interest in farming. So long as
it isn't his own farm, his mother thinks that won't hurt."
Josephine laughed softly.
"A bright old lady, his mother, I should think."
"Well, she has had the good sense to realise at last that I am the only
person likely to keep Jimmy out of mischief. He is such a booby
sometimes, and yet, somehow or other, you know, Josephine, I've never
wanted to marry anybody else. I don't understand why, but there it is."
"That's the right feeling, dear, so long as you're sure," Josephine
declared cheerfully.
Sarah rose suddenly to her feet, crossed the little space between them,
and crouched on the floor by her friend's chair.
"You've been such a brick to me, dear," she declared, looking up at her
fondly, "and I feel a perfect beast being so happy all the time."
Josephine let her fingers rest on the strands of soft, wavy hair.
"Don't be absurd, Sarah," she remonstrated. "Besides, things haven't been
quite so bad with me lately."
"You look different, somehow," her guest admitted, "as though you were
taking a little more interest in life. I've seen quite a wonderful light
in your eyes, now and then."
"Ridiculous!"
"It isn't ridiculous, and I'm delighted about it," Sarah went on. "You
must know, dear, that I am not quite an idiot, and I am too fond of you
not to notice any change.


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