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Dell, Ethel M. (Ethel May), 1881-1939

"The Swindler and Other Stories"


And I can tell you there's a dashed deal more fun in being the first
than the last of those. Still, I think I could make you comfortable if
you would have me; though, if you don't want to, just say so, and I'll
shunt till further notice."
It was thus that he made his proposal to the girl of his choice; and no
one, hearing it, would have guessed that beneath his calm, even
phlegmatic, exterior, the man was in a ferment of anxiety. He spoke with
a slight nasal twang that seemed to emphasise his deliberation, and his
face was mask-like in its composure. Of beauty he had none.
His eyes were extraordinarily blue, but the lids drooped over them so
heavily that his expression was habitually drowsy, even stolid. In
build, he was short and thick-set, like a bulldog; and there seemed to
be something of a bulldog's strength in the breadth of his chest, though
there was no hint of energy about him to warrant its development.
The girl he addressed did not look at him. She sat perfectly still, with
her hands fast clasped together, and her eyes, wide and despairing,
fixed upon the fire in front of her. She was wondering desperately how
long she could possibly endure it. Yet his last words were somehow not
what she had expected from this man whose manner always seemed to hint
that at least half of creation was at his sole disposal. They expressed
a consideration on his part that she had been far from anticipating.


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