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Malet, Lucas, 1852-1931

"Deadham Hard"

How long she proposes to wait before closing her
scissors it is idle to attempt to say."
He laid his hands on Damaris' shoulders. Bent his head and kissed
her upward pouted lips--thereby hushing the loving disclaimer which
rose to them.
"So we will keep on the safe side of the event, my wise child," he
continued. "Make all our preparations and thus deny the enemy any
satisfaction of taking us unawares.--Can you write a business
letter for me?"
"A dozen, dearest, if you wish," Damaris assented eagerly. Yet that
image of the scissors stayed by her. Already her joy was sensibly
upon the wane.
"Oh! one will be sufficient, I think--quite sufficient for this morning."
Charles Verity turned his head, looking seaward through the
tranquil sunshine.
"That Indian appointment has to be suitably thanked for and--declined."
Damaris drew back a step so as to gain a clearer view of him. The
hands resting on her shoulders were oddly inert, so she fancied,
forceless and in temperature cold.


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