He straightened at that and looked bewildered, but he tried to smile.

"I thought I was the only one," he said. "Is it possible that there is

another?"

"I am the other," she announced. I think she expected him to say

"Impossible," but, whatever he was, he was never banal.

"Is that so?" he asked politely, trying to be interested and to

understand at the same time. He had not seen me. He was gazing fixedly

at Bella, languishing on the divan and watching him with lowered lids,

and he had given Jim a side glance of contempt. But now he saw me and

he colored under his tan. His neck blushed furiously, being much whiter

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than his face. He kept his eyes on mine, and I knew that he was mutely

asking forgiveness. But the thought of what was coming paralyzed me. My

eyes were glued to his as they had been that first evening when he had

called me "Mrs. Wilson," and after an instant he looked away, and his

face was set and hard.

"It seems that we have all been playing a little comedy, Mr. Harbison,"

Aunt Selina began, nasally sarcastic. "Or rather, you and I have been

the audience. The rest have played."

"I--I don't think I understand," he said slowly. "I have seen very

little comedy."

"It was not well planned," Aunt Selina retorted tartly. "The idea

was good, but the young person who was playing the part of Mrs.

Wilson--overacted."

"Oh, come, Aunt Selina," Jim protested, "Kit was coaxed and cajoled into

this thing. Give me fits if you like; I deserve all I get. But let Kit

alone--she did it for me."

Bella looked over at me and smiled nastily.

"I would stop doing things for Jim, Kit," she said. "It is SO

unprofitable."

But Mr. Harbison harked back to Aunt Selina's speech.

"PLAYING the part of Mrs. Wilson!" he repeated. "Do you mean--?"

"Exactly. Playing the part. She is not Mrs. Wilson. It seems that that

honor belonged at one time to Miss Knowles. I believe such things are

not unknown in New York, only why in the name of sense does a man want

to divorce a woman and then meet her at two o'clock in the morning to

kiss the place where his own wedding ring used to rest?"

Jim fidgeted. Bella was having spasms of mirth to herself, but the

Harbison man did not smile. He stood for a moment looking at the fire;

then he thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his dressing gown, and

stalked over to me. He did not care that the others were watching and

listening.

"Is it true?" he demanded, staring down at me. "You are NOT Mrs. Wilson?

You are not married at all? All that about being neglected--and loathing

HIM, and all that on the roof--there was no foundation of truth?"




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