In Friendship's Guise by Wm. Murray Graydon
page 14 of 279 (05%)
page 14 of 279 (05%)
|
"He will never suspect me," he muttered complacently, as he lit a cigar. With head erect, and coat buttoned tightly over his breast, Jack went on through the enticing streets of Paris. He had moved from his former lodgings to a house that fronted on the Boulevard St. Germain. Here he had the entresol, which he had furnished lavishly to please his wife. He let himself in with a key, mounted the stairs, and opened the studio door. A lamp was burning dimly, and the silence struck a chill to his heart. "Diane," he called. There was no reply. He advanced a few feet, and caught sight of a letter pinned to the frame of an easel. He turned up the lamp, opened the envelope, and read the contents: "Dear Jack:-- "Good-by forever. You will never see me again. Forgive me and try to forget. It is better that we should part, as I could not endure a life of poverty. I love you no longer, and I am sure that you have tired of me. I am going with one who has taken your place in my heart--one who can gratify my every wish. It will be useless to seek for me. Again, farewell. DIANE." The letter fell from Jack's hand, and he trampled it under foot. He reeled into the dainty bedroom, and his burning eyes noted the signs of confusion and flight--the open and empty drawers, the despoiled dressing |
|