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

"Nobody's Man"

"I know her ladyship would be only too pleased.
It's a long step to the Manor, and if you'll forgive my saying so, sir,
you've a good deal on your shoulders just now."
Tallente caught a glimpse of the bleak moorland and of the distant
hills, wrapped in mist. The idea of vigorous exercise, however,
appealed to him. He shook his head.
"I'd rather walk, thanks," he said.
"It's a matter of five miles, sir."
Tallente smiled. There was something in the fresh, cold air wonderfully
alluring after the atmosphere of the room he had quitted. He turned his
coat collar up and strode down the avenue.

CHAPTER III
Tallente reached the Manor about an hour and a half later, mud-splashed,
wet and weary. Robert followed him into the study and mixed him a
whisky and soda.
"You've walked all the way back, sir?" he remarked, with a note of
protest in his tone.
"They offered me a car," Tallente admitted. "I didn't want it. I came
down for fresh air and exercise."
"Two very good things in their way, sir, but easily overdone," was the
mild rejoinder.


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