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Nicholson, Meredith, 1866-1947

"The Port of Missing Men"


"I ought to work for an hour on that Danish claims matter," remarked the
Judge, glancing toward his curtained den.
"You will do nothing of the kind! Night work is not permitted in the
valley."
"Thank you! I hoped you would say that, Shirley. I believe I am tired;
and now if you will find a magazine for me, I'll go to bed. Ring for
Thomas to close the house."
"I have a few notes to write; they'll take only a minute, and I'll write
them here."
She heard her father's door close, listened to be quite sure that the
house was quiet, and threw back the curtains. Armitage stepped out into
the library.
"You must go--you must go!" she whispered with deep tensity.
"Yes; I must go. You have been kind--you are most generous--"
But she went before him to the hall, waited, listened, for one instant;
then threw open the outer door and bade him go. The rain dripped heavily
from the eaves, and the cool breath of the freshened air was sweet and
stimulating. She was immensely relieved to have him out of the house, but
he lingered on the veranda, staring helplessly about.
"I shall go home," he said, but so unsteadily that she looked at him
quickly.


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