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

"The Zeppelin's Passenger"

For a moment his face darkened as
his eyes met Lessingham's. He seemed about to speak but changed
his mind.
"Well, good-by, every one," he called out. "I shall be back before
midnight if we don't get out."
"And if you do?" Nora cried.
"If we do, Heaven help the whiting!"

CHAPTER XV

"Of course, we're behaving shockingly, all three of us!" Philippa
declared, as she sipped her champagne and leaned back in her seat.
"You mean by coming to a place like this?" Lessingham queried,
looking around the crowded restaurant. "We are not, in that case,
the only sinners."
"I didn't mean the mere fact of being here," Philippa explained,
"but being here with you."
"I forgot," he said gloomily, "that I was such a black sheep."
"Don't be silly," she admonished. "You're nothing of the sort. But,
of course, we are skating on rather thin ice. If I had Henry to
consider in any way, if he had any sort of a career, perhaps I should
be more careful. As it is, I think I feel a little reckless lately.
Dreymarsh has got upon my nerves. The things that I thought most of
in life seem to have crumbled away."
"Ought I to be sorry?" he asked. "I am not."
"But why are you so unsympathetic?"
"Because I am waiting by your side to rebuild," he whispered.
A tall, bronzed young soldier with his arm in a sling, stopped
before their table, and Helen, after a moment's protest and a
glance at Philippa, moved away with him to the little space
reserved for the dancers.


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