The Copy-Cat [69]
tone which she did not understand, but which she vaguely quivered before. Harold certainly thought the corals were too young for Viola. Jane understood, and felt an unworthy triumph. Harold, who was young enough in actual years to be Viola's son, and was younger still by reason of his disposition, was amused by the sight of her in corals, although he did not intend to be- tray his amusement. He considered Viola in corals as too rude a jest to share with her. Had poor Viola once grasped Harold Lind's estimation of her she would have as soon gazed upon herself in her cof- fin. Harold's comprehension of the essentials was beyond Jane Carew's. It was fairly ghastly, par- taking of the nature of X-rays, but it never disturbed Harold Lind. He went along his dance-track undis- turbed, his blue eyes never losing their high lights of glee, his lips never losing their inscrutable smile at some happy understanding between life and him- self. Harold had fair hair, which was very smooth and glossy. His skin was like a girl's. He was so beautiful that he showed cleverness in an affecta- tion of carelessness in dress. He did not like to wear evening clothes, because they had necessarily to be immaculate. That evening Jane regarded him with an inward criticism that he was too handsome for a man. She told Viola so when the dinner was over and he and the other guests had gone. "He is very handsome," she said, "but I never like to see a man quite so handsome." "You will change your mind when you see him in tweeds," returned Viola. "He loathes evening clothes." Jane regarded her anxiously. There was some- thing in Viola's tone which disturbed and shocked her. It was inconceivable that Viola should be in love with that youth, and yet -- "He looks very young," said Jane in a prim voice. "He IS young," admitted Viola; "still, not quite so young as he looks. Sometimes I tell him he will look like a boy if he lives to be eighty." "Well, he must be very young," persisted Jane. "Yes," said Viola, but she did not say how young. Viola herself, now that the excitement was over, did not look so young as at the beginning of the evening. She removed the corals, and Jane con- sidered that she looked much better without them. "Thank you for your corals, dear," said Viola. "Where Is Margaret?" Margaret answered for herself by a tap on the door. She and Viola's maid, Louisa, had been sit- ting on an upper landing, out of sight, watching the guests down-stairs. Margaret took the corals and placed them in their nest in the jewel-case, also the amethysts, after Viola had gone. The jewel-case was a curious old affair with many compartments. The amethysts required two. The comb was so large that it had one for itself. That was the reason why Margaret did not discover that evening that it was gone. Nobody discovered it for three days, when Viola had a little card-party. There was a whist-table for Jane, who had never given up the reserved and stately game. There were six tables in Viola's pretty living-room, with a little conserva- tory at one end and a leaping hearth fire at the other. Jane's partner was a stout old gentleman whose wife was shrieking with merriment at an auction-bridge table. The other whist-players were a stupid, very small young man who was aimlessly willing to play anything, and an amiable young woman who be- lieved in self-denial. Jane played conscientiously. She returned trump leads, and played second hand low, and third high, and it was not until the third rubber was over that she saw. It had been in full evidence from the first. Jane would have seen it before the guests arrived, but Viola had not put it in her hair until the last moment. Viola was wild with delight, yet shamefaced and a trifle uneasy. In a soft, white gown, with violets at her waist, she was playing with Harold Lind, and in her ash-blond hair was Jane Carew's amethyst comb. Jane gasped and paled. The amiable young woman who was her opponent stared at her. Finally she spoke in a low voice. "Aren't you well. Miss Carew?" she asked. The men, in their turn, stared. The stout