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Rinehart, Mary Roberts, 1876-1958

"Dangerous Days"


"How strange it all is," Delight said. "Here we are, you and
father and myself - and even Jackson. I saw him to-day. All here,
living different lives, doing different things, even thinking
different thoughts. It's as though we had all moved into a
different world."
He walked on beside her, absorbed in his own thoughts, which were
yet only of her.
"I didn't know you were here," he brought out finally.
"That's because you've been burying yourself. I knew you were here."
"Why didn't you send me some word?"
She stiffened somewhat in the darkness.
"I didn't think you would be greatly interested, Graham."
And again, struggling with his new humility, he was silent. It was
not until they had crossed the parade ground and were beyond the
noises of the barracks that he spoke again.
"Do you mind if I talk to you, Delight? I mean, about myself? I
- since you're here, we're likely to see each other now and then,
if you are willing. And I'd like to start straight.


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