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Derrick Vaughan, Novelist by Edna [pseud.] Lyall
page 46 of 103 (44%)

He passed on, and I made my way to Gay Street. There was an air of
mystery about the quaint old landlady; she looked brimful of news
when she opened the door to me, but she managed to 'keep herself to
herself,' and showed me in upon the Major and Derrick, rather
triumphantly I thought. The Major looked terribly ill--worse than I
had ever seen him, and as for Derrick, he had the strangest look of
shrinking and shame-facedness you ever saw. He said he was glad to
see me, but I knew that he lied. He would have given anything to
have kept me away.

"Broken your arm?" I exclaimed, feeling bound to take some notice of
the sling.

"Yes," he replied; "met with an accident to it. But luckily it's
only the left one, so it doesn't hinder me much! I have finished
seven chapters of the last volume of 'Lynwood,' and was just wanting
to ask you a legal question."

All this time his eyes bore my scrutiny defiantly; they seemed to
dare me to say one other word about the broken arm. I didn't dare--
indeed to this day I have never mentioned the subject to him.

But that evening, while he was helping the Major to bed, the old
landlady made some pretext for toiling up to the top of the house,
where I sat smoking in Derrick's room.

"You'll excuse my making bold to speak to you, sir," she said. I
threw down my newspaper, and, looking up, saw that she was bubbling
over with some story.
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