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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Captives"

' And so you are. One can
see at a glance."
She went up to him, kissed him, and smelt whisky and some scent that
had geraniums in it. He put his arm round her, with his old unsteady
gesture, and held her to him for a moment, then patted her back with
his large, soft hand.
"Your aunt's a long time. I've been waiting half an hour."
"They've been to some meeting." She stood looking at him with her
fine steady gaze that had always made him afraid of her, and did so,
to his own surprise, again now. He had thought that his clothes
would have saved him from that; his fingers felt at his button-hole.
Looking at him she said:
"Uncle, I want to get away--out of this--at once. No, they aren't
horrid to me. Every one's been very kind. But I'm afraid of it all--
of never getting out of it--and I want to be independent . . ." She
stopped with a little breathless gasp because she heard the hall-
door close. "Ah, they're here! Don't tell them anything. We'll talk
afterwards . . ."
His eyes glittered with satisfaction. "I knew you would, my dear.
I knew you wouldn't be able to stand it . . . I'll get you out of
it .


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