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Dalrymple, Leona, 1884-

"Diane of the Green Van"

There are one or two other little things like forest fires, floods
and brigands--"
"Help!" murmured Philip.
"Can you add anything to that?" demanded Diane politely.
Philip laughed. Diane, delicately sarcastic, was irresistible.
"There is the bullet--" he reminded gravely.
"_Please_!" begged Diane faintly.
Philip flushed with a sense of guilt.
"Well," he owned, "I have bothered you a lot about it, that's a fact!
But it sticks so in my mind. There's something else--"
"Yes?" said Diane discouragingly.
"Didn't you tell me yesterday that you'd had a feeling some one had
been spying on your camp?"
"Yes," said Diane in serious disapproval. "I did. I get seizures of
confidential lunacy once in a while. Are you going to fuss about that?"
"No," said Philip gently. "But the knife and the bullet and that have
made me wonder--a lot. After all," he regretted sincerely, "my notions
are very vague and formless, but I feel so strongly about them
that--urging my friendship for Carl as my sole excuse for unasked
advice to his cousin--"
"Yes?"
Philip laid aside his pipe with a sigh. The crisp music of his lady's
voice was not encouraging.
"I do hope you'll forgive me," he said quietly, "but I'm going to urge
you to abandon your trip to Florida!"
"Mr.


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