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Thurston, Katherine Cecil, 1875-1911

"The Masquerader"


Loder laughed.
At the sound she dropped his hand and rose from her knees.
What her suspicions, what her instincts were she could not
have clearly defined, but her action was unhesitating.
Without a moment's uncertainty she turned to the fireplace,
pressed the electric button, and flooded the room with light.
There is no force so demoralizing as unexpected light. Loder
took a step backward, his hand hanging unguarded by his side;
and Lillian, stepping forward, caught it again before he could
protest. Lifting it quickly, she looked scrutinizingly at the
two rings.
All women jump to conclusions, and it is extraordinary how
seldom they jump short. Seeing only what Lillian saw, knowing
only what she knew, no man would have staked a definite
opinion; but the other sex takes a different view. As she
stood gazing at the rings her thoughts and her conclusions
sped through her mind like arrows--all aimed and all tending
towards one point. She remembered the day when she and
Chilcote had talked of doubles, her scepticism and his
vehement defence of the idea; his sudden interest in the book
'Other Men's Shoes', and his anathema against life and its
irksome round of duties.


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