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

"A Prince of Sinners"

I walked back
to my miserable dwelling with a red fire before my eyes, muttering,
cursing that power which stood behind the universe, and which we call
God, that there should be vomited forth into the world day by day, hour
by hour, this black stream of human wretchedness, an everlasting mockery
to those who would seek for the joy of life.
"They took me to the hospital, and they called my illness brain-fever.
But long before they thought me convalescent I was conscious, lying
awake and plotting my escape. With cunning I managed it. Of my wife
and child I never once thought. Every trace of human affection seemed
withered up in my heart. I took the money subscribed for me with a
hypocrite's smile, and I slunk away from England. I went to Montreal in
Canada, and I deliberately entered upon a life of low pleasures. Pardon
me!"
He bent forward and with a steady hand readjusted the shade of a lamp
which was in danger of burning. Lady Caroom leaned back in her chair
with an indrawn sobbing breath. The action at such a moment seemed
grotesque. His own coolness, whilst with steady fingers he probed away
amongst the wounded places of his life, was in itself gruesome.


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