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ticularly what happened to him, so
long as there was no danger of de
tecting the fraud that had been per
petrated. John Martin and she were to be
married in four months' time. They
were very fond of each other in a
sensible way. Every Saturday night
John called and every Wednesday
night he took her to the theater. It
was an ideal engagement from a
monetary point of view, for John was
earning $300 a month as secretary to
a prominent publisher, and had five
thousand in the bank besides.
About three weeks after Lucille's
successful maneuver the girl waited
in vain on Wednesday evening for
John to appear. She was as much
amazed as disappointed. It was the
first time since their engagement that
his regularity had failed. And the
absence of a telephone call induced
in her first anger, then alarm.
"John is ill, mother!" she exclaimed
at last, when all hope of his appear
ance that night had been discarded.
"Or else he has met with an accident
on the way." j- -
"Oh, no, my dear," said Mrs. Hamp
ton. "No doubt he was detained at
the office on business."
"But he ought to have called me
up. Pshall call him up and let him
know what I think of his behavior!"
cried Lucille, angrily.
She flew to the telephone and call
ed up John's address at his apart
"Mr. Martin said that if anybody
called him up, to say he'd gone to
the theater with a party," answered
Ithe attendant's voice at the other
Lucille slammed down the receiv
er. "That beats everything!" she
said indignantly. "I shall send back
"Better wait till Saturday, and give
it to him, dear," said wise Mrs.
Lucille, burning with humiliation,
con.iuacu mat wxiat she had to say
might better be said than written. .
She spent three wretched day,
which were not rendered any more
pleasant by the look on Hilda's lace,
which now bore a broad smile.
Saturday night came, but John did
not This was the climax of Lucille's
suffering. At ten o'clock she sat
down and wrote him an indignant
letter, breaking off the engagement
She was glad, she said, that she had
found him out at last before it was
too late, but she wished he had been
enough of a gentleman to teE her
what she had wanted to tell him, that
each had grown tired of the other.
But before the note was posted
there came a ring at the apartment
door, and Lucille, opening, encoun
tered John Martin himself, wearing
an expression at once penitent
sheeping and absurd.
"Forgive me, Lucille," he pleaded,
taking her hands in his.
The girl found her anger evaporat
ing so rapidly that she could not
keep back the tears.
"I was a brute, a beast, to believe
it of you," continued John, "but the
evidence was so circufllstential, and
if I hadn't received Hilda's letter to
"What are you talking about,
John?" demanded the.fcrf
"Why, the letter. Hlldawrote me,
dearest To think that she should
have behaved in such a way. Why,
the girLmust be mad "
"John!" cried Lucille. "I don't
know what you mean about Hilda
writing you letters, but why haven't
you been to see me, and why did you
leave word on Wednesday night that
you had gone to the theater with a
partv. without even telephoning
me?" She was beginning to weep
again. Her feelings overcame her.
John clasped her in his arms and
tried to comfort her.
"Don't you know, Lucille?" he
asked. "I came here on Wednesday
a few minutes earlier than usual, and
I I saw what I thought was you, in
the kitchen, in the arms of a stranger."
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