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

"The Yellow Crayon"

I think if she has any desire to marry you there are or
could be no obstacles existing which she would not easily dispose
of."
"There are obstacles, then?"
"You must not ask me that," Mr. Sabin said, with a certain amount
of stiffness. "The Countess is a very dear friend of mine, and
you must forgive me now if I say that I prefer not to discuss her
any longer."
A hall servant entered the room, bearing a note for Mr. Brott. He
received it at first carelessly, but his expression changed the
moment he saw the superscription. He turned a little away, and
Mr. Sabin noticed that the fingers which tore open the envelope were
trembling. The note seemed short enough, but he must have read it
half a dozen times before at last he turned round to the messenger.
"There is no answer," he said in a low tone.
He folded the note and put it carefully into his breast pocket. Mr.
Sabin subdued an insane desire to struggle with him and discover,
by force, if necessary, who was the sender of those few brief lines.
For Mr. Brott was a changed man.
"I am afraid," he said, turning to his guest, "that this has been a
very dull evening for you. To tell you the truth, this club is not
exactly the haunt of pleasure-seekers. It generally oppresses me
for the first hour or so. Would you like a hand at bridge, or a
game of billiards? I am wholly at your service--until twelve
o'clock.


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