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

"The Top of the World"

Had he not waked her indeed? But yet--but
yet--She looked at ham doubtfully.
"Listen!" he said. "We've been going round in a circle lately.
It's been like that infernal game we used to play as children.
'Snail,' wasn't it called? Where nobody ever got home and
everybody always lost their tempers! Let's get out of it, Sylvia!
Let's leave Guy and Schafen to look after things, and go to the top
of the world by ourselves! I'll take great care of you. You'll be
happy, you know. You'll like it."
He spoke urgently, leaning towards her. There was nothing terrible
about him at that moment. All the mastery had gone from his
attitude. He was even smiling a little.
Her heart gave a great throb. It was so long, so long, since he
had spoken to her thus. And then, like a blasting wind, the memory
of Guy's bitter words rushed across her. She seemed again to feel
the sand of the desert blowing in her face, sand that was blended
with ashes. Was it only a slave that he wanted after all? She
hated herself for the thought, but she could not drive it out.
"Don't you like that idea?" he said.
Still she hesitated. "What of Guy?" she said. "We must think of
him, Burke. We must."
"I'm thinking of him," he said. "A little responsibility would
probably do him good."
"But to leave him--entirely--" She broke off.


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