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Rinehart, Mary Roberts, 1876-1958

"Bab: a Sub-Deb"


Patten's voice and said: "You're not going to bed, surely!"
"I'm going to pretend to have a sick headache," said the other Person,
and I knew it was the One-peace Lady. "He's going to come back in a
frenzey, and he'll take it out on me, unless I'm prepared."
"Poor Reggie!" said Mrs. Patten, "To think of him locked in there alone,
and no Clothes or anything. It's too funny for words."
"You're not married to him."
My heart stopped beating. Was SHE married to him? She was indeed. My
dream was over. And the worst part of it was that for a married man
I had done without Food or exercise and now stood in a hot closet in
danger of a terrable fuss.
"No, thank Heaven!" said Mrs. Patten. "But it was the only way to make
him work. He is a lazy dog. But don't worry. We'll feed him before he
sees you. He's always rather tractible after he's fed."
Were ALL my dreams to go? Would they leave nothing to my shattered
ilusions? Alas, no.
"Jolly him a little, to," said----can I write it?--Mrs. Beecher. "Tell
him he's the greatest thing in the World. That will help some. He's
vain, you know, awfully vain. I expect he's written a lot of piffle."
Had they listened they would have heard a low, dry sob, wrung from
my tortured heart. But Mrs. Beecher had started a vibrater, and my
anguished cry was lost.
"Well," said Mrs. Patten, "Will has gone down to let him out, I expect
he'll attack him. He's got a vile Temper. I'll sit with you till he
comes back, if you don't mind.


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