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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"Arms and the Woman"

He was
smiling as usual.
"It is supper, Jack," he said; "I'm afraid you'll have to go."
"Does he know?" whispered Phyllis as we rose.
"Yes."
She frowned. And as they went away I mused upon the uncertainty of
placing valuable things in woman's hands.
The next person I saw was the Chancellor.
"Well?" I interrogated.
"There can be no doubt," he said, "but--" with an expressive shrug.
"Life would run smoother if it had fewer 'buts' and 'its' and
'perhapses.' What you would say," said I, "is that there are no
proofs. Certainly they must be somewhere."
"But to find them!" cried he.
"I shall make the effort; the pursuit is interesting."
The expression in his eyes told me that he had formed an opinion in
regard to my part. "Ah, these journalists!" as he passed on.
Everything seemed so near and yet so far. Proofs? Where could they be
found if Wentworth had them not? If only there had been a trinket, a
kerchief, even, with the Hohenphalian crest upon it! I shook my fists
in despair. Gretchen was so far away, so far!
I went in search of her. She was still surrounded by men.


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