The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 18??-1935, 1907-05-03
~ II e.
MaSquerader
BY KATHERINE CECIL THURSTON.
Author OF The Circle" Etc
(continued.)


asked.
Lillian looked up innocently. ITS so
hard to be certain Of anything Ia this
world" she said. But one is always
at liberty TO guess"
Again he was perplexed. Her att-
tude was not quite the attitude OF one
who controls the game. and yet He
looked at her with a puzzled scrutiny.
Women for him had always spelled the
lncomprehensible. He was at his best.
his strongest, his surest. in the presence
of men. Feeling his disadvantage, yet
determined to gain his end. he made
last attempt.
How did you amuse yourself at
GrosvenOr square this morning before
Eve came to yOu?" he asked. The eff
fort was awkwardly blunt, but it was
direct
Lillian was buttoning her glove. She
did not raise her head as he spoke, but
her fingers paused in their task. For
a second she remained motionless; then
she looked up slowly.
"Oh," she said sweetly, 80 l was
right In my guess? You did come to
find out whether l sat In the morning
room with my hands In my lap or
wandered about in search Of entertain
mentT'
apprehension. Every look, every tone,
of IIlllian's was distasteful to him. No
microscope could have revealed her
more fully to him than did his own
syesight. But II was not the moment
for personal antipathies; there were
other interests than his own at stake.
With new resolution he returned her
glance.
'AThen l must still ask my first Ques-
ton. why did you say. I thought 1t
would be your" His gaze was direct
SO direct that it disconnected her. She
laughed little uneasily-
Because knew"
"How did you known
"Because''- she began; then again
she laughed Because" she added
quickly, as IL moved by a fresh i'm
pulse. "Jack Chilcote made 1t very OBJ
vlous to any one who was in his morn
ing room at IL o'clock today that it
would be you and not lie who would
be found filling his place this after
noon. It's all very well to talk about
honor, but when one walks into an
empty room and sees telegram as
long as letter open on bureau
But her sentence was never finished.
Loder had heard what he came to hear
ANY confession she might have to offer
was of no moment in his eyes.
'NIy dear girl" he broke in brusque-
Iy, "don't trouble I should make a
most unsatisfactory father confessor"
He spoke quickly. His color was still
high, but not of annoyance. His sus-
Dense was transformed into unpleasant
certainty, but the exchange left him
surer of himself. His perplexity had
dropped to quiet sense of self re-
lance. His paramount tNsire was for
solitude In which to prepare for the
task that lay before him--the most con-
genial task the world possessed the
unraveling Of Chilcote's tangled skelns.
Looking into I.illian's eyes he smiled.
"Goodby," he said, holding out his
hand. Il think we've finisbed=for to-
day"
She slowly extended her fingers.
Her expression and attitude were
slightly puzzled : a puzzlement that
was either spontaneous or singularly
well assumed. As their hands touched
she smiled again.
"wIll you drop in at the Arcadian to-
night?" she asked Its the drama
tlzed version of Other Mems Shoesr
The temptation to make you see 1t was
too lrresIstible-as you know"
There was a pause while she waited
for his answer, her head inclined to
one side, her green eyes cleaning.
Loder, conscious of her regard, hest
tated for moment. Then his face
cleared. Right! he said slowly. The
Arcadian tonight!'