Jennette Lee

“ But I really went because of Marian. She was never out of my thoughts." He looked down at the cigar between his fingers and knocked a bit of ash from its tip.
"I could not understand mother's feeling about Marian. It was almost as if she were afraid to have me marry her—some taint in the blood. She never spoke openly, only in vague hints. We did not know what kind of people she came from, she said. We did not know what she might do some day."
"Did she say this to Marian?"
"Not in words," he said quickly. "But Marian knew that in some way she was standing between my mother and me. . . . ”

“ In the open sunshine, the great house before them, the car driving rapidly away, vines and flowers all about, the little group made a pretty picture. No one could have fancied that a shadow rested on them or on the house, as they passed within the gracious doorway open to receive them.
After dinner they all sat on the terrace for a while, the father and son smoking, the mother resting back in her chair and looking at them contentedly. Presently she left them and went into the house. Milly saw her enter the doorway and hesitate a moment, and then go slowly up the stairs. ”

“ He tossed away his cigar a little impatiently. "Oh, I have thought and wondered—till I am not sure of anything!" he cried. "We burn out and are tossed aside!" He motioned to the bit of cigar smouldering at the edge of the bricks. He reached into his pocket for another and cut the end with a grim look on his lips.
"Yet even I have felt her presence in the house," returned Milly. ”

“ He stared.
"I help people who are in trouble—they often come to me. . . . I am a detective."
The hand on the arm of his chair gripped it suddenly. He sat looking off across the hills, the little smile on his lips regarding them slowly.
Her hurrying needles purled a double stitch, and another, and finished the row before she looked up. "I am very glad you came just now. I think you can help—more than any one in the world, perhaps, to solve the trouble." ”

“ And the woman was noting that the face opposite to her was lined and sad. The face of the youth in the picture in the library up-stairs was care free; its openness seemed to have nothing to conceal or regret. But this face opposite her held in its tense lines something a little tragic. It was the face of a man who had suffered deeply—who perhaps was suffering now under the quiet look of reserve.
She turned with a little gesture of revealment. "I am not a seamstress," she said quietly. ”

“ If you will all go on living as if I were not here—as if nothing had happened—or were going to happen, I can finish my work sooner—and go away." Her fingers adjusted the flying wool and shook it free, and the man's eyes followed it thoughtfully.
"It is hard to begin," he said, "because nothing happened. We simply became unhappy. Two years ago we were the happiest family in the world—father and mother and Marian—" He turned with a swift look. ”

“ XIX Stephen Mason finished his cigar and tossed away the end and entered the house. A little later Milly heard him talking with his father; the voices were relaxed and easy, the little note of constraint seemed to have vanished. Then the car appeared and they went toward the steps. The son looked back and saw the mother in the doorway and sprang to escort her to the car. There was something very winning in the air of devotion with which he led her across the terrace. Her hand on his arm seemed to rest with a little weight, and the figure bending to her was full of affectionate care. ”

“ All life seemed larger and things opened out. I began to notice children on the street, and to think of them here in the old house—scampering through the halls and calling out when I came home. I could always see my mother with them—he worships children! ”

“ But each time something shifted beneath her fingers and escaped her. . . . She would go to bed. She put her work into its bag and gave another glance at the two figures on the terrace and went up-stairs.
The long halls seemed very light as she came out of the dimness of the sewing-room. And at the top of the stairs she saw a bright light in Mrs. Mason's room. The door stood open to the hall.
The next minute, as if her step had been hearkened for, Mrs. Mason appeared in the doorway. She stepped quickly into the hall, and Milly moved toward her. ”

“ He seemed lost in thought, and the look of sadness returned to his face.
Milly glanced at it and then at the hand that half reached to his breast-pocket and drew back.
"You may smoke," she said quietly. He smiled gratefully and drew the cigar from his pocket. He lighted it and sat watching the smoke drift away.
"What happened then—after you had the money?"
"Nothing that I expected," he said bitterly. "I had thought we should all be happy again. I had made up my mind to give up my extravagances and cut out speculating. I was going to marry Marian and settle down. ”

“ He seemed to recall it a little wonderingly.
"I found one morning, in the pocket of my coat, a roll of bills—five thousand dollars. Enough to repay the bank and put everything straight."
"You 'found' it?" echoed Milly, incredulous. "People do not 'find' five thousand dollars in their pockets, do they?" ”