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Phillpotts, Eden, 1862-1960

"The Red Redmaynes"

"
"Four years."
He showed astonishment.
"I am twenty-five," she explained, "though I'm told I do not look so
much as that."
"Indeed not; I should have guessed eighteen. Collect your thoughts
now and just give me what of your history and your husband's you
think most likely to be of use."
She did not speak for a moment and Brendon, taking a chair, drew it
up and sat with his arms upon the back of it facing her in a casual
and easy position. He wanted her to feel quite unconstrained.
"Just chat, as though you were talking of the past to a friend," he
said. "Indeed you must believe that you are talking to a friend, who
has no desire but to serve you."
"I'll begin at the beginning," she answered. "My own history is
brief enough and has surely little bearing on this dreadful thing;
but my relations may be more interesting to you than I am. The
family is now a very small one and seems likely to remain so, for of
my three uncles all are bachelors. I have no other blood relations
in Europe and know nothing of some distant cousins who live in
Australia.


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