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

"A Millionaire of Yesterday"

For a moment he looked away from his own
work and took the opportunity to light a fresh cigarette. Then he
nodded, hastily scrawled some dimensions on the margin of the little
drawing and settled down again to work.
"It'll do," he said. "Give it to Smith. Come back at eight to
look at your proofs after I've done with them. Good interview!
Good sketch! You'll do, Miss Wendermott."
She went out laughing softly. This was quite the longest
conversation she had ever had with the chief. She made her way to
the side of the first disengaged typist, and sitting in an
easy-chair gave down her copy, here and there adding a little but
leaving it mainly in the rough. She knew whose hand, with a few
vigorous touches would bring the whole thing into the form which
the readers of the "Hour", delighted in, and she was quite content
to have it so. The work was interesting and more than an hour had
passed before she rose and put on her gloves.
"I am coming back at eight," she said. "but the proofs are to go
in to Mr. Darrel! Nothing come in for me, I suppose?"
The girl shook her head, so Ernestine walked out into the street.
Then she remembered Cecil Davenant and his strange manner - the
story which he was even now waiting to tell her.


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