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Thurston, Katherine Cecil, 1875-1911

"The Masquerader"

He
leaned back slowly, while he summed up the situation. If by
any unlucky chance this woman knew Chilcote to have adopted
jewelry and had seen the designs of his rings, the sight of
his own scarred finger would suggest question and comment; if,
on the other hand, he left the pavilion without excuse, or if,
without apparent reason, he refused to remove the rings, he
opened up a new difficulty--a fresh road to curiosity. It
came upon him with unusual quickness--the obstacles to, and
the need for, a speedy decision. He glanced round the tent,
then unconsciously he straightened his shoulders. After all,
he had stepped into a tight corner, but there was no need to
cry out in squeezing his way back. Then he realized that the
soft, ingratiating tones were sounding once more.
"It's the passing of my hands over yours, while I look into
the crystal, that sets up sympathy"--a slender hand moved
swiftly into the light and picked up the ball--"and makes my
eyes see the pictures in your mind. Now, will you please take
off your rings?"
The very naturalness of the request disarmed him.


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