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

"A Millionaire of Yesterday"

"If he chooses he will be the lion of
the season! By the by, you had nothing of interest from Fred?"
She shook her head impatiently.
"Nothing but praises! According to Fred, he's a hero!"
"I hate him," Davenant said sulkily.
"And so," she answered softly, "do I! Do you see him coming, Cecil?"
"In good company too," the young man laughed bitterly.
A little group of men, before whom every one fell back respectfully,
were strolling through the paddock towards the horses. Amongst
them was Royalty, and amongst them also was Scarlett Trent. But
when he saw the girl in the white foulard smile at him from the
paling he forgot etiquette and everything else. He walked straight
across to her with that keen, bright light in his eyes which Fred
had described so well in his letter.
"I am very fortunate," he said, taking the delicately gloved hand
into his fingers, "to find you so soon. I have only been in England
a few hours."
She answered him slowly, subjecting him the while to a somewhat
close examination. His face was more sunburnt than ever she had
seen a man's, but there was a wonderful force and strength in his
features, which seemed to have become refined instead of coarsened
by the privations through which he had passed.


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