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

"The Yellow Crayon"

Sabin and laughed softly. Indeed,
Mr. Sabin had very little the appearance of an old man. He was
leaning with both hands clasped upon his stick, his face alert,
his eyes bright and searching.
"You carry your years well, Mr. Sabin. Yet while we are on the
subject, do you know that London is the unhealthiest city in the
world?"
"I am always remarkably well here," Mr. Sabin said drily.
"London has changed since your last visit," Lord Robert said, with
a gentle smile. "Believe me if I say--as your sincere well-wisher
--that there is something in the air at present positively
unwholesome to you. I am not sure that unwholesome is not too weak
a word."
"Is this official?" Mr. Sabin asked quietly.
The young man fingered the gold chain which disappeared in his
trousers pocket.
"Need I introduce myself?" he asked.
"Quite unnecessary," Mr. Sabin assured him. "Permit me to reflect
for a few minutes. Your visit comes upon me as a surprise. Will
you smoke? There are cigarettes at your elbow."
"I am entirely at your service," Lord Robert answered. "Thanks, I
will try one of your cigarettes. You were always famous for your
tobacco."
There was a short silence. Mr. Sabin had seldom found it more
difficult to see the way before him.
"I imagined," he said at last, "from several little incidents which
occurred previous to my leaving New York that my presence here was
regarded as superfluous.


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