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

"The Malefactor"

He only
waited. At last she spoke.
"Nothing is settled yet," she said, still without looking at him.
"I see no reason," he said calmly, "why, until that time, you should
refuse to accept your allowance from Mr. Pengarth."
"I cannot take any more of your money," she answered. "It was a
mistake from the first, but I was foolish. I did not understand."
His lip curled with scorn.
"You are one of those," he said, "who, as a child, were wise, but as a
young woman with a little knowledge, become--a prig. What harm is my
money likely to do you? I may be the Devil himself, but my gold is not
tainted. For the rest, granted that I am at war with the world, I do
not number children amongst my enemies."
She raised her eyes then, and looked him in the face.
"I am not afraid of you," she declared. "It is not that; but I have
been dependent long enough. I will keep myself--or starve."
He shrugged his shoulders and paid the bill.
"My man," he said, "will take you wherever you like. I have a call to
make close here."
They stood upon the pavement. She held out her hand a little timidly.
Her eyes were soft and wistful.
"Goodbye, guardian," she said. "Thank you very much for my lunch."
"Ah!" he said gravely, "if you would let me always call myself that!"
She got into the car without a word. Wingrave walked straight back to
his own house. Several people were waiting in the entrance hall, and
the visitors' book was open upon the porter's desk.


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