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

"The Evil Shepherd"

"
"Why don't you lead a quieter life?" he asked. "A month or so in
the country would put you all right."
She laughed a little hardly. Then for a moment she looked at him
appraisingly.
"I was going to speak to you of nerves," she said, "but how would
you ever understand? You look as though you had not a nerve in
your body. I can't think how you manage it, living in London. I
suppose you do exercises and take care of what you eat and
drink."
"I do nothing of the sort," he assured her indignantly. "I eat
and drink whatever I fancy. I have always had a direct object in
life--my work--and I believe that has kept me fit and well.
Nerve troubles come as a rule, I think, from the under-used
brain."
"I must have been born with a butterfly disposition," she said.
"I am quite sure that mine come because I find it so hard to be
amused. I am sure I am most enterprising. I try whatever comes
along, but nothing satisfies me."
"Why not try being in love with one of these men who've been in
love with you all their lives?"
She laughed bitterly.
"The men who have cared for me and have been worth caring about,"
she said, "gave me up years ago. I mocked at them when they were
in earnest, scoffed at sentiment, and told them frankly that when
I married it would only be to find a refuge for broader life.


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