The Early Short Fiction of Edith Wharton — Part 1 by Edith Wharton
page 85 of 177 (48%)
page 85 of 177 (48%)
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"Yes--blinding. She didn't know anything when she had that kind.
And her room was at the back of the flat." Denver again meditated. "And when you got back--she didn't hear you? You got in without her knowing it?" "Yes. I went straight to my work--took it up at the word where I'd left off--WHY, DENVER, DON'T YOU REMEMBER?" Granice suddenly, passionately interjected. "Remember--?" "Yes; how you found me--when you looked in that morning, between two and three . . . your usual hour . . .?" "Yes," the editor nodded. Granice gave a short laugh. "In my old coat--with my pipe: looked as if I'd been working all night, didn't I? Well, I hadn't been in my chair ten minutes!" Denver uncrossed his legs and then crossed them again. "I didn't know whether YOU remembered that." "What?" "My coming in that particular night--or morning." Granice swung round in his chair. "Why, man alive! That's why I'm here now. Because it was you who spoke for me at the |
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