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

"Nobody's Man"

Take a day or two's holiday
soon, even from this great work of yours, and go down to Devonshire. It
would be very dangerous advice," she went on, smiling, "to a different
sort of man, but I have a fancy that to you it may mean something, and I
happen to know--that Jane is miserable."
The car stopped. Tallente held Lady Alice's hand as he had seldom held
the hand of a woman in his life. A curious incapacity for speech
checked the words even upon his lips.
"Thank you," he faltered.

CHAPTER XXII
Upon the moor above Martinhoe and the farm lands adjoining, spring had
fallen that year as gently as the warm rain of April. Tallente,
conscious of an unexpected lassitude, paused as he reached the top of
the zigzag climb from the Manor and rested for a moment upon a block of
stone. Below him, the forests of dwarf oaks which stretched down to the
sea were tipped with delicate green. The meadows were like deep soft
patches of emerald verdure; the fruit trees in his small walled garden
were pink and white with blossoms. The sea was peaceful as an azure
lake into which the hulls of the passing steamers cut like knives,
leaving behind a long line of lazy foam.


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