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The Hypocrite
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The man gripped a little ornamental knob on the arm of the chair. The people who were coming after the dinner were being announced. He heard Sir Lionel and Lady Picton's names shouted from the door. It was a curious evening.
"Were you a Miss Lovering before you married?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Then you're Marjorie!"
"Yes," she said with a little smile, "I was Marjorie."
They were silent for a time, and their faces changed a little.
"Rather a fool, wasn't he?" Sturtevant forced himself to say at last.
"Oh, yes, we flirted a little, don't you know, but I always thought him rather poor fun."
"Yes, he wasn't much. I remember when I was reading for the Bar I did him a service, for which he was not in the least grateful."
"Yes, he was quite that sort of person."
"But still," said Sturtevant, "he was a man possessed of considerable personal charm."
FINIS
"Were you a Miss Lovering before you married?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Then you're Marjorie!"
"Yes," she said with a little smile, "I was Marjorie."
They were silent for a time, and their faces changed a little.
"Rather a fool, wasn't he?" Sturtevant forced himself to say at last.
"Oh, yes, we flirted a little, don't you know, but I always thought him rather poor fun."
"Yes, he wasn't much. I remember when I was reading for the Bar I did him a service, for which he was not in the least grateful."
"Yes, he was quite that sort of person."
"But still," said Sturtevant, "he was a man possessed of considerable personal charm."
FINIS
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