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Updated: June 26, 2025
Gregory covered his face with his hands. "Do you despise me, you pure angel of beauty? Oh, say you don't utterly despise me. I've not breathed this secret to any living soul but you, you whom I love with the madness of despair. My heart is broken. Tell me what I can do." At last Grace spoke in a thin tone: "Where is that woman?" "Fran's mother?" She did not reply; he ought to know whom she meant.
"You didn't understand me," she resumed. "What I want is a home. I don't want to follow you anywhere. This is where I want to stay." "You can not stay here," he answered with a slight smile at the presumptuous request, "but I'm willing to pay for a room at the hotel " At this moment, the door was opened by the young woman who, some hours earlier, had responded to Fran's knocking.
The high moon which had been obscured by gathering cloud banks, found an opening high above the fringe of woods, and cast a shining glow upon her face, and touched her figure as with silver braid. Out of this light looked Fran's eyes as dark as deepest shadows, and out of the unfathomable depths of her eyes glided two tears as pure as their source in her heart.
Grace repeated with delicate reproof "Your intimate friend!" "I know it was wrong for him to desert his wife." "Wrong!" How inadequate seemed that word from her pure lips! "But," he faltered, "we must make allowances. My friend married Fran's mother in secret because she was utterly worldly frivolous a butterfly. Her own uncle was unable to control her to make her go to church.
"That's almost the only thing they're ever questioned about, nowadays," said Gail. "As a security measure only Captain Moggs and enlisted personnel without classified information, and the police who're hunting for Fran, are allowed to talk to them." "Fran's been gone how long? A week? Over?" Soames scowled. "How can he hide? He knows little English!
Quivering in helpless fury, he stumbled to his desk, and leaned upon it. His face burned; that of Grace Noir was ghastly white. "Now, you" said Fran, her voice vibrating as she faced the secretary, "go to your typewriter!" Grace did not move. Fran's eyes resembled cold stones with jagged points as her steady arm pointed: "Go! Stand where I tell you to stand. Oh, I have tamed lions before to-day.
Fran turned upon her father, and pointed toward his desk. "Stand there!" she said, scarcely above a whisper. Gregory burst forth in blind wrath: "How dare you enter the room in this manner? You shall leave this house at once, and for ever....I should have driven you out long ago. Do you hear me? Go!" Fran's arm was still extended. "Stand there!" she repeated.
Soames was assumed to be on his way East to confer with a group of scientists who now had added certain skilled instrument-makers to their number and triumphantly worked themselves to twitching exhaustion. Fran's part in the affair was naturally a secret. Lights and power in five Colorado counties went off and stayed off. Local newspapers printed indignant editorials.
"Miss Grace, you have heard Mrs. Gregory say that she trusts me and she is Fran's guardian. I ask you to do the same." "I must consider my conscience." That answer closed all argument. "You had better tell her," said Mrs. Gregory, "for she is determined to know."
Fran's reply was almost a whisper. A sudden terror of what he might think of her, smote her heart. But she repeated bravely, "Yes!" He turned, and she saw in his eyes a confiding trust that seemed to hedge her soul about. "And you can always take me for granted, Fran; and always is a long time." "Not too long for you and me," said Fran, looking at him breathlessly.
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