Remember
that one has always one's fancy. I looked at you to-night, and I thought
that I saw another woman--or rather I thought that I saw the woman that
you might be, that I would pray to make you. The other woman is there,
I think. I only hope that it may be my good fortune to call her into
life."
Her head was bent over her plate. She seemed to be listening to the
music--or was there something there which she did not wish me to see? I
could not tell. The waiter intervened with another course. When she spoke
to me again, her tone was almost cold, but it troubled me very little.
There was a softness in her eyes which she could not hide.
"It seems to me," she said, "that we have been very frivolous. I agreed
to dine with you that we might speak together of this unfortunate person,
Leslie Guest. You saw him last night?"
"Yes," I answered, "I saw him."
My tone had become grave, and my face overcast. She was watching me
curiously.
"Well!"
"I am bothered," I admitted. "I don't quite know what I ought to do!"
"Explain!"
"It seemed to me," I said, "that the man was neither more nor less than a
prisoner there in the hands of those who, for some reason or other, are
his enemies.
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