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

"The Tempting of Tavernake"

"
"I believe," she agreed, "that if I had not appeared you were in
great danger of becoming narrow."
"I am sure of it," he answered, "but you see you came."
She was thoughtful for a moment.
"This reminds me just a little of that first dreary feast of
ours," she said. "You knew what it was like then to feed a
genuinely starving girl. And I was miserable, Leonard. It
didn't seem to me that there was any other end save one."
"You've got over all that nonsense?" he asked anxiously.
"Yes, I suppose so," she answered. "You see, I've started life
again and one gets stronger. But there are times even now," she
added, "when I am afraid."
The mirth had suddenly died from her face. She looked older,
tired, and careworn. The shadows were back under her eyes; she
glanced around almost timorously. He filled her glass.
"That is foolishness," he said. "Nothing nor anybody can harm
you now."
Some note in his voice attracted her attention. Strong and
square, with hard, forceful face, he sat wholly at his ease among
these unfamiliar surroundings, a very tower of refuge, she felt,
to the weak. His face was not strikingly intellectual--she was
not sure now about his mouth--but one seemed to feel that dogged
nature, the tireless pains by which he would pursue any aim dear
to him. The shadows passed away from her mind. What was dead
was gone! It was not reasonable that she should be haunted all
her days by the ghosts of other people's sins.


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