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Freeman, R. Austin (Richard Austin), 1862-1943

"The Vanishing Man"


The occupation was by no means unpleasant, apart from the fact that it
was a labour of love; for the sentences, as I picked them up, were
fragrant with reminiscences of the gracious whisper in which they had
first come to me. And then the matter itself was full of interest. I was
gaining a fresh outlook on life, was crossing the threshold of a new
world (which was _her_ world); and so the occasional interruptions from
patients, while they gave me intervals of enforced rest, were far from
welcome.
The evening wore on without any sign from Nevill's Court, and I began to
fear that Mr. Bellingham's scruples had proved insurmountable. Not, I am
afraid, that I was so much concerned for the copy of the will as for
the possibility of a visit, no matter howsoever brief, from my fair
employer; and when, on the stroke of half-past seven, the surgery door
flew open with startling abruptness, my fears were allayed and my hopes
shattered simultaneously. For it was Miss Oman who stalked in, holding
out a blue foolscap envelope with a warlike air as if it were an
ultimatum.


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