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

"The Double Life Of Mr. Alfred Burton"

I've
only to say the word and he'll fetch me in a taxicab. I'm not sure that
he hasn't got a motor of his own. No more nonsense, if you please, Mr.
Waddington," she continued, shaking out her duster. "Is that an
engagement with you on Thursday night, or is it not?"
Mr. Waddington measured with his eye the distance to the door. He
gripped Burton's arm and looked over his shoulder.
"It is not," he said firmly.
They left the place a little precipitately. Once in the open air,
however, they seemed quickly to recover their equanimity. Burton
breathed a deep sigh of relief.
"I must go and change my clothes, Mr. Waddington," he declared. "I
don't know how on earth I could have come out looking such a sight. I
feel like working, too."
"Such a lovely morning!" Mr. Waddington sighed, gazing up at the sky.
"If only one could escape from these hateful streets and get out into
the country for a few hours! Have you ever thought of travelling
abroad, Burton?"
"Have you?" Burton asked.
Mr. Waddington nodded.
"I have it in my mind at the present moment," he admitted. "Imagine the
joy of wandering about in Rome or Florence, say, just looking at the
buildings one has heard of all one's life! And the picture
galleries--just fancy the picture galleries, Burton! What a dream!
Have you ever been to Paris?"
"Never," Burton confessed sadly.


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