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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Captives"

You're always right, you darling . . . Only suppose I should
miss them both. William won't wait for ever! Got that note, dear?"
Maggie was defiant. She would just show the creature that she wasn't
afraid of her. She'd give her the note and she might imagine what
she pleased.
She got a pencil and a piece of paper and wrote hurriedly.
The week is up on Friday. Will you meet me that evening at a quarter
past six under the Marble Arch? MAGGIE.
The boldness, the excitement of this inflamed her. It was so like
her to challenge any action once she was in it by taking it to its
furthest limit. She put it in an envelope and wrote Martin's name
with a flourish.
"There!" she said, giving it to Caroline.
"Thank you," said Caroline, and with a number of rather wet and
elaborate kisses (Maggie hated kissing) departed.
But her afternoon was not yet over; hardly had Caroline left when
the door was opened and Miss Avies was shown in. Maggie started up
with dismay and began to stammer excuses. Miss Avies brushed them
aside.
"It doesn't matter," she said. "You'll do as well--even, it may be,
better.


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