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

"A Prince of Sinners"

"
"I am sorry," Sybil answered, softly, for though Mary's tone had been
cold enough, she had nevertheless for a single moment lifted the
curtain, and Sybil understood in some vague manner that there were
things behind into which she had no right to inquire.
The two girls parted at Trafalgar Square, and Sybil, still in love with
the fresh air, turned blithely westward on foot. In the Haymarket she
came face to face with Brooks.
He greeted her with a delightful smile.
"You alone, and walking," he exclaimed. "What fortune. May I come?"
"Of course," she answered. "You know where I have come from, I
suppose?"
He glanced at her plain clothes and realized that the odour of
disinfectants was stronger even than the perfume of the handful of
violets which she had just bought from a woman in the street.
"Stepney!" he exclaimed.
"Quite right. I had a card last evening, and was there at nine o'clock
this morning. I suppose I look a perfect wreck. I was dancing at
Hamilton House at three o'clock."
He looked towards her marvelling. Her cheeks were prettily flushed, and
she walked with the delightful springiness of perfect health.


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