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Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

"The Great Prince Shan"

He leaned down. She found herself wondering, even
in that tumultuous moment, at the strange clearness of his complexion,
the whiteness of his firm, strong teeth, the soft brilliance of his
eyes, which caressed her even before his lips rested upon hers.
"I think that you will come," he whispered. "I think that you will be
very happy."


CHAPTER XXIX

The great house in Curzon Street awoke, the following morning, to a
state of intense activity. Taxi-cabs and motor-cars were lined along the
street; a stream of callers came and went. That part of the
establishment of which little was seen by the casual caller, the rooms
where half a dozen secretaries conducted an immense correspondence,
presided over by Li Wen, was working overtime at full pressure. In his
reception room, Prince Shan saw a selected few of the callers, mostly
journalists and politicians, to whom Li Wen gave the entree. One visitor
even this most astute of secretaries found it hard to place. He took the
card in to his master, who glanced at it thoughtfully.
"The Earl of Dorminster," he repeated. "I will see him."
Nigel found himself received with courtesy, yet with a certain
aloofness. Prince Shan rose from his favourite chair of plain black oak
heaped with green silk cushions and held out his hand a little
tentatively.
"You are very kind to visit me, Lord Dorminster," he said. "I trust that
you come to wish me fortune."
"That," Nigel replied, "depends upon how you choose to seek it.


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