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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"Arms and the Woman"

You need a woman to
look after you, Jack?"
As I did not reply, she looked quickly at me, and seeing that my face
was grave, she flushed.
"Forgive me, Jack," impulsively; "I did not think."
I answered her with a reassuring smile.
"How long are you to remain in town?" I asked, to disembarrass her.
"We leave day after to-morrow, Saturday. A day or two in Paris, and
then we go on. Every one in New York is talking about your book. I
knew that you were capable."
"I hope every one is buying it," said I, passing over her last
observation.
"Was it here that you wrote it?"
"Oh, no; it was written in my rooms, under the most favorable
circumstances."
"I thought so. This is a very dreary place."
"Perhaps I like it for that very reason."
Her eyes were two interrogation points, but I pretended not to see.
"What nice eyes your cousin has," she said, side glancing.
With a woman it is always a man's eyes.
"And his father was the man who left you the fortune?"
"Yes," I answered, with a short laugh. Of course, I had never told
Phyllis of that thousand-dollar check.


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