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Rinehart, Mary Roberts, 1876-1958

"Dangerous Days"

You know I've been away for four years, and
since I came back I haven't seen much of you. But, if you'll let
me come round - "
"You can come if you like. You'll be bored, probably."
"You're being awfully nasty, you know. Here I come to pull you out
of a ditch and generally rescue you, and - Come, now, Delight, what
is it? There's something. We used to be pals."
"I don't know, Graham," she said truthfully. "I only know - well,
I hear things, of course. Nothing very bad. Just little things.
I wish you wouldn't insist. It's idiotic. What does it matter
what I think?"
Graham flushed. He knew well enough one thing she had heard. Her
father and mother had been at dinner the other night, and he had
had too much to drink.
"Sorry."
He stopped the pump and put away the tools, all in silence. Good
heavens, was all the world divided into two sorts of people: the
knockers - and under that heading he placed his father, Delight,
and all those who occasionally disapproved of him - and the decent
sort who liked a fellow and understood him?
But his training had been too good to permit him to show his angry
scorn.


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