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Thurston, Katherine Cecil, 1875-1911

"The Masquerader"

The speed with which this hunger
had returned frightened him.
He walked forward rapidly and without encountering a check.
Then, suddenly, the spell was broken. From the slowly moving,
brilliantly dressed throng of people some one called him by
his name; and turning he saw Lillian Astrupp.
She was stepping from the door of a jeweller's, and as he
turned she paused, holding out her hand.
"The very person I would have wished to see!" she exclaimed.
"Where have you been these hundred years? I've heard of
nobody but you since you've turned politician and ceased to be
a mere member of Parliament!" She laughed softly. The laugh
suited the light spring air, as she herself suited the
pleasant, superficial scene.
He took her hand and held it, while his eyes travelled from
her delicate face to her pale cloth gown, from her soft furs
to the bunch of roses fastened in her muff, The sight of her
was a curious relief. Her cool, slim fingers were so casual,
yet so clinging, her voice and her presence were so redolent
of easy, artificial things.


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