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

"The Yellow Crayon"

"
The Prince leaned over between them, but he looked only at Lucille.
"I wish that I could," he murmured. "I wish that that were within
my power."
"It is," she answered coolly. "Muriel is quite right. I am most
anxious to return to my husband."
The Prince said nothing. Lady Carey, glancing towards him at that
moment, was surprised at certain signs of disquietude in his face
which startled her.
"What is the matter with you?" she asked almost roughly.
"Matter with me? Nothing," he answered. "Why this unaccustomed
solicitude?"
Lady Carey looked into his face fiercely. He was pale, and there
was a strained look about his eyes. He seemed, too, to be listening.
From outside in the street came faintly to their ears the cry of a
newsboy.
"Get me an evening paper," she whispered in his ear.
He got up and left the box. Lucille was watching the people below
and had not appreciated the significance of what had been passing
between the two. Lady Carey leaned back in the box with half-closed
eyes. Her fingers were clenched nervously together, her bosom was
rising and falling quickly. If he had dared to defy her! What was
it the newsboys were calling? What a jargon! Why did not Saxe
Leinitzer return? Perhaps he was afraid! Her heart stood still
for a moment, and a little half-stifled cry broke from her lips.


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