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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Captives"


Although her heart beat wildly her whole mind was bent upon
composure, upon showing nothing to her aunts, and on behaving to him
as though she scarcely knew him, but so soon as he entered the room
some voice cried in her: "He is mine! He is mine!" She did not stir
from her wall, but her eyes fastened upon him and then did not move.
He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday; his tie was different,
it had been black and now it was dark blue. He looked quiet and
self-possessed and at his ease. His rough stiff hair was carelessly
brushed as always; good-humour shone from his eyes, he smiled, his
walk had the sturdy broad strength of a man who is absolutely sure
of himself but is not conceited. He seemed to have no trouble in the
world.
He greeted the aunts, then shook hands with Maggie. He gave her one
glance and she, suddenly feeling that that glance had not the things
in it that she had wanted, was frightened, her confidence left her,
she felt that if she did not have a word alone with him she would
die.
He sat down near Aunt Anne.
"No, thank you, I won't have any tea," he said. "We're dining very
early to-night because Father and Amy have a meeting right away over
Golders Green way somewhere.


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