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Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

"The Zeppelin's Passenger"

Your conduct
is disgraceful and unmanly."
"My dear girl!" he remonstrated. "I may be back in twenty-four--
possibly twelve hours."
"It is a matter of indifference to me when you return," was the curt
reply. "I have finished."
The door was thrown open.
"Your oilskins, sir, and flask," Mills announced, hurrying in, a
little breathless. "You'll forgive my mentioning it, sir, but it
scarcely seems a fit night to leave home."
"Got to be done this once, Mills," his master replied, struggling
into his coat.
The young people from the billiard room suddenly streamed in. Nora,
who was still carrying her cue, gazed at her father in amazement.
"Why, where's Dad going?" she cried.
"It appears," Philippa explained sarcastically, "that a shoal of
whiting has arrived."
"Very uncertain fish, whiting," Sir Henry observed, "here to-day
and gone to-morrow."
"You won't find it too easy getting off to-night, sir," Harrison
remarked doubtfully.
"Jimmy will see to that," was the confident reply. "I expect we
shall be amongst them at daybreak. Good-by, everybody! Good-by,
Philippa!"
His eyes sought his wife's in vain. She had turned towards
Lessingham.
"You are not hurrying off, are you, Mr. Lessingham?" she asked. "I
want you to show me that new Patience."
"I shall be delighted."
Sir Henry turned slowly away.


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