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

"The Yellow Crayon"

I will come
about twelve o'clock."
Mr. Sabin went back to the palm lounge. Lucille and Reginald
Brott were sitting together at a small table, talking earnestly
to one another. The Prince and Lady Carey had joined another
party who were all talking together near the entrance. The latter,
directly she saw them coming, detached herself from them and came
to him.
"Your coffee is almost cold," she said, "but the Prince has found
some brandy of wonderful age, somewhere in the last century, I
believe."
Mr. Sabin glanced towards Lucille. She appeared engrossed in her
conversation, and had not noticed his approach. Lady Carey shrugged.
"You have only a few minutes," she said, "before that dreadful
person comes and frowns us all out. I have kept you a chair."
Mr. Sabin sat down. Lady Carey interposed herself between him and
the small table at which Lucille was sitting.
"Have they discovered anything?" she asked.
"Nothing!" Mr. Sabin answered.
She played with her fan for a moment. Then she looked him steadily
in the face.
"My friend?"
He glanced towards her.
"Lady Carey!"
"Why are you so obstinate?" she exclaimed in a low, passionate
whisper. "I want to be your friend, and I could be very useful to
you. Yet you keep me always at arm's length. You are making a
mistake.


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