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Updated: May 7, 2025
"I said a High School-mistress, not any special mistress, but I will be definite if you like. How would you like to be Me?" Janet turned suddenly, laid her free hand on Claire's shoulder, and stared deeply into her face. "I don't know!" she said slowly. "Sometimes I think it's just what I should like. I have a great deal, but you have more. Look at our two faces in that glass!"
To begin with, it was none of his business and he was not a man who presumed to judge or even speculate on other people's indiscretions. Claire Robson was no sheltered schoolgirl. She was a full-grown woman, in the thick of business life. Such women were not taken unawares. He had just dismissed the whole affair from his mind on this basis when Claire's telephone message came to him.
During the days that followed Claire's attitude grew into one of motherhood. She watched over Lawrence for the least thing she might do, the least promise of returning health. There were times when he raved in delirium, and she listened with a swelling heart. One morning he began suddenly talking of himself.
It was very big, and fine, and spacious, but at that moment it was a type of desolation in Claire's eyes. With a sickening wave of loneliness she realised that she was motherless and alone! The next afternoon Claire started on her journey to London. She had spent the night with friends, and been seen off at the station by quite a crowd of well-wishers.
One link was missing from the chain; no motive had been discovered for an attack on Percy by Davlin. "But I will find it," she muttered. Then, as a new thought occurred to her, she caught her breath. "Claire's lover is named Percy; can it be the same? Why did not this occur to me sooner? Why did I not ask for his first name, and a description of him?
Mrs Fanshawe's eyes followed the girl's movements with a keen scrutiny. It seemed to her that Claire's indifference was a trifle overdone: Erskine also was unnaturally composed. Under ordinary circumstances such a meeting would have called forth a frank, natural pleasure. She set her lips, and determined to leave nothing to chance.
Perched upon the high revolving chairs surrounding a horseshoe counter, a score or more of soft-shirted men sat devouring huge greasy doughnuts and gulping coffee. The steward, taking note of Claire's hesitation, came forward and led her to a seat at one of the side tables. She was about to take advantage of the chair which he had drawn out for her when she heard her name called. She turned.
In Claire's circle her welcome was decidedly cold. The Faubourg Saint-Germain has its pretensions; but do not imagine that the Marais has none! Those wives and daughters of mechanics, of wealthy manufacturers, knew little Chebe's story; indeed, they would have guessed it simply by her manner of making her appearance and by her demeanor among them. Sidonie's efforts were unavailing.
With which she laid a kind hand upon Claire's heaving shoulder, and impelled her gently into the body of the car, already full to overflowing.
He went on up to his room, inattentive even to Claire's possible troubles. He dressed slowly, automatically, and descended to the fire-lit space that held Cytherea in her mocking, her becoming, aloofness.
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