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

"A Millionaire of Yesterday"

"
Trent stood quite still for a moment - then he unlocked the door.
"You had better go, Francis," he said quietly. "I have a defence
prepared but I will reserve it. And listen, when I locked that
door it was with a purpose. I had no mind to let you leave as you
are leaving. Never mind. You can go - only be quick."
Francis paused upon the threshold. "You understand," he said
significantly.
"I understand," Trent answered.
* * * * *
An hour passed, and Trent still remained in the chair before his
writing-table, his head upon his hand, his eyes fixed upon vacancy.
Afterwards he always thought of that hour as one of the bitterest
of his life. A strong and self-reliant man, he had all his life
ignored companionship, had been well content to live without friends,
self-contained and self-sufficient. To-night the spectre of a great
loneliness sat silently by his side! His heart was sore, his pride
had been bitterly touched, the desire and the whole fabric of his
life was in imminent and serious danger.
The man who had left him was an enemy and a prejudiced man, but
Trent knew that he was honest. He was the first human being to
whom he had ever betrayed the solitary ambition of his life, and
his scornful words seemed still to bite the air.


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