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

"The Malefactor"

You may possibly derive some
amusement from her society for a short time, but--afterwards!"
"Explain yourself exactly," Wingrave said.
"Is it necessary?" Aynesworth declared brusquely. "Talk sensibly to
her! Don't encourage her if she should really be contemplating
anything foolish!"
"Why not?"
"Oh, hang it all!" Aynesworth declared. "I'm not a moralist, but she's
a decent little woman. Don't ruin her life for the sake of a little
diversion!"
Wingrave, who had been holding a cigar case in his hand for the last
few minutes, opened it, and calmly selected a cigar.
"Aren't you a little melodramatic, Aynesworth?" he said.
"Sounds like it, no doubt," his companion answered, "but after all,
hang it, she's not a bad little sort, and you wouldn't care to meet
her in Piccadilly in a couple of years' time."
Wingrave turned a little in his chair. There was a slight hardening of
the mouth, a cold gleam in his eyes.
"That," he remarked, "is precisely where you are wrong. I am afraid
you have forgotten our previous conversations on this or a similar
subject. Disconnect me in your mind at once from all philanthropic
notions! I desire to make no one happy, to assist at no one's
happiness. My own life has been ruined by a woman. Her sex shall pay
me where it can. If I can obtain from the lady in question a single
second's amusement, her future is a matter of entire indifference to
me.


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