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

"The Yellow Crayon"

And he, leaning upon his stick, looked only
for one person, and having found her, took no heed of any one else.
"Lucille!"
She rose from her seat and stood with hands outstretched towards
him, her lips parted in a delightful smile, her eyes soft with
happiness.
"Victor, welcome! It is like you to have found me, and I knew
that you would come."
He raised her fingers to his lips--tenderly--with the grace of a
prince, but all the affection of a lover. What he said to her none
could hear, for his voice was lowered almost to a whisper. But the
colour stained her cheeks, and her blush was the blush of a girl.
A movement of the Duchess recalled him to a sense of his social
duty. He turned courteously to her with extended hand.
"I trust," he said, "that I may be forgiven my temporary fit of
aberration. I cannot thank you sufficiently, Duchess, for your
kind invitation."
Her answering smile was a little dubious.
"I am sure," she said "that we are delighted to welcome back
amongst us so old and valued a friend. I suppose you know every
one?"
Mr. Sabin looked searchingly around, exchanging bows with those
whose faces were familiar to him. But between him and the Prince
of Saxe Leinitzer there passed no pretense at any greeting. The
two men eyed one another for a moment coldly.


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