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

"Nobody's Man"


"We must talk almost in whispers," she went on. "And do have your
whisky and soda, Andrew, because you must go very soon."
"It would disturb you very much if your servants were to know of my
presence here?" he asked, in a queer, even tone.
"Of course it would," she answered, without looking at him. "As you
know, I have lived, from my standpoints, an extraordinarily
unconventional life, but that was because I knew myself and was safe.
But--I have never done anything like this before in my life."
"You have never been in the same position," he reminded her. "There has
never been any one else to consider except yourself."
"True enough," she admitted, "but oughtn't that to make one all the more
careful? I loved seeing you when I came in, and I have loved our few
minutes together, but I am getting a little nervous. Do you see that it
is past two o'clock?"
"There is no one to whom you are accountable for anything in life except
to me," he told her passionately.
She laughed softly but a little uneasily.
"Dear Andrew," she said, "there is my own sense of what is seemly
and--must I use the horrid word?--my reputation to be considered.


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