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

"Nobody's Man"


"I can't realise it, even now," she went on, drawing her hand away at
last. "I pictured you at Westminster, in committee rooms and all sorts
of places. Aren't you forging weapons to drive us from our homes and
portion out our savings?"
"I have left the thunderbolts alone for one short week-end," he
answered. "I felt a hunger for this moorland air. London becomes so
enveloping." Jane sat upright upon her horse and looked at him with a
mocking smile. "How ungallant! I hoped you had come to atone for your
neglect."
"Have I neglected you?" he asked quietly, turning and walking by her
side.
"Shockingly! You lunched with me on the seventh of August. I see you
again on the second of November, and I do believe that I shall have to
save you from starvation again."
"It's quite true," he admitted. "I have a sandwich in my pocket,
though, in case you were away from home."
"Worse than ever," she sighed. "You didn't even trouble to make
enquiries."
"From whom should I? Robert--my servant--his wife, and a boy to help in
the garden are all my present staff at the Manor.


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