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    Dearest
    Dearest
    Dearest
    Ebook27 pages23 minutes

    Dearest

    By H. Beam Piper

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    "Oh, no; I'm really here," the voice, inaudible but mentally present, assured him. "You can't see me, or touch me, or even really hear me, but I'm not something you just imagined. I'm just as real as ... as Smokeball, there. Only I'm a different kind of reality. Watch."
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherStart Publishing LLC
    Release dateApr 26, 2016
    ISBN9781682997185
    Dearest

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    3.5/5

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    • 3/5
      A gentle dreamy story about the friendship between an old man and ...

      well, that would be spoiling it. A pleasant read.

      -Lisa Shapter

    Book preview

    Dearest - H. Beam Piper

    Dearest

    By H. Beam Piper

    Start Publishing LLC

    Copyright © 2015 by Start Publishing LLC

    All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

    First Start Publishing eBook edition July 2015

    Start Publishing is a registered trademark of Start Publishing LLC

    Manufactured in the United States of America

    10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

    ISBN 13: 978-1-68299-718-5

    Dearest

    By H. Beam Piper

    Colonel Ashley Hampton chewed his cigar and forced himself to relax, his glance slowly traversing the room, lingering on the mosaic of book-spines in the tall cases, the sunlight splashed on the faded pastel colors of the carpet, the soft-tinted autumn landscape outside the French windows, the trophies of Indian and Filipino and German weapons on the walls. He could easily feign relaxation here in the library of Greyrock, as long as he looked only at these familiar inanimate things and avoided the five people gathered in the room with him, for all of them were enemies.

    There was his nephew, Stephen Hampton, greying at the temples but youthfully dressed in sports-clothes, leaning with obvious if slightly premature proprietorship against the fireplace, a whiskey-and-soda in his hand. There was Myra, Stephen’s smart, sophisticated-looking blonde wife, reclining in a chair beside the desk. For these two, he felt an implacable hatred. The others were no less enemies, perhaps more dangerous enemies, but they were only the tools of Stephen and Myra. For instance, T. Barnwell Powell, prim and self-satisfied, sitting on the edge of his chair and clutching the briefcase on his lap as though it were a restless pet which might attempt to escape. He was an honest man, as lawyers went; painfully ethical. No doubt he had convinced himself that his clients were acting from the noblest and most disinterested motives. And

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