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Allen, Grant, 1848-1899

"Hilda Wade, a Woman with Tenacity of Purpose"

He was swimming now, arm
over arm, straight out seaward. I saw the lifted hands between the crest
and the trough. For a moment I hesitated whether I ought to strip
and follow him. Was he doing as so many others of his house had
done--courting death from the water?
But some strange hand restrained me. Who was I that I should stand
between Hugo Le Geyt and the ways of Providence?
The Le Geyts loved ever the ordeal by water.
Presently, he turned again. Before he turned, I had taken the
opportunity to look hastily at his clothes. Hilda Wade had surmised
aright once more. The outer suit was a cheap affair from a big
ready-made tailor's in St. Martin's Lane--turned out by the thousand;
the underclothing, on the other hand, was new and unmarked, but fine
in quality--bought, no doubt, at Bideford. An eerie sense of doom stole
over me. I felt the end was near. I withdrew behind a big rock, and
waited there unseen till Hugo had landed. He began to dress again,
without troubling to dry himself. I drew a deep breath of relief. Then
this was not suicide!
By the time he had pulled on his vest and drawers, I came out suddenly
from my ambush and faced him.


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