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Moore, George (George Augustus), 1852-1933

"Vain Fortune"


They felt sure he must have overheard a large part of their conversation,
for as he opened the carriage door he grinned, showing his three yellow
fangs.... His appearance was not encouraging. Julia wished he were
different, and then she looked at Hubert. She longed to throw herself into
his arms and weep. But at that moment the heavens seemed to open, and the
rain came down like a torrent, thick and fast, splashing all along the road
in a million splashes.
'Horrible weather, sir; shan't be long a-takin' you to Southwater. What
part of the town be yer going to--the railway station?'
Julia still hesitated. The rain beat on their faces, and when some chilling
drops rolled down her neck she instinctively sought shelter in the
carriage.
'Drive me to the station as fast as you can. Catch the half-past five to
London, and I'll give you five shillings.'
The leather thong sounded on the starved animal's hide, the crazy vehicle
rocked from side to side, and the wet country almost disappeared in the
darkness. Hedges and fields swept past them in faintest outline, here and
there a blurred mass, which they recognised as a farm building. His arm was
about her, and she heard him murmur over and over again--
'Dearest Julia, you are what I love best in the world.


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