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

"The Malefactor"

But this
is the place where you ought to live. You would be happier here, I
believe, than in exile. The love of it all would come back, you would
never be lonely. It is the same sea which sang to you when you were a
child, and to your fathers before you. It would bring you
forgetfulness when you wanted it, or--"
Wingrave interrupted her. His tone was cold, but not unkind.
"My dear young lady," he said, "it is very good of you to be so
sympathetic, but I am afraid I am not at all the sort of person you
imagine me to be. What I was before those ten years--well, I have
forgotten. What I am now, I unfortunately know. I am a soured,
malevolent being whose only pleasure lies in the dealing out to others
some portion of the unhappiness which was dealt out to me."
"I do not believe it," she declared briskly.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Nevertheless, it is true," he declared coolly. "Listen! More or less
you interest me. I will tell you something which I have never yet told
to a single human being. I need not go into particulars. You will
probably believe a broad statement. My ten years' imprisonment was
more or less an injustice!"
"Sir Wingrave!"
He checked her. There was not a tremor in his tone. The gesture with
which he had repelled her was stiff and emotionless.
"I went into prison one man, I came out another. While I live, I shall
never be able to think kindly again of a single one of my fellow
creatures.


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