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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"

Never, I
suppose, did woman have clearer evidence of her power, nor
sweeter, for Harry was by no means a fool to be carried away by
the first pretty face that came in his way.
She simply overwhelmed him, and I repeat that I do not wonder at
it, for my own pulse was not exactly steady. She asked us to dine
with her.
I pleaded an engagement at the club and signed to Harry to do
likewise; but he was completely gone and paid no attention to me.
He accepted the invitation gratefully, with frank delight, and I
left them together.
It was about ten o'clock when he came home that evening. I was
seated in the library and, hearing him enter the hall, called to
him.
What a face was his! His lips trembled with nervous feeling, his
eyes glowed like the eyes of a madman. I half started from my
chair in amazement.
"I have no time," said he in answer to my invitation to join me
with a bottle. "I have a letter or two to write, and--and I must
get some sleep."
"Did you just leave Le Mire?"
"Yes."
I looked at my watch.
"What under the sun did you find to talk about?"
"Oh, anything--nothing. I say, she's charming."
His essay at indifference was amusing.


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