"Oh, will you?" she exclaimed delightedly. She clasped her
fingers in a gesture of dismay. "Oh, I hope you won't be sorry!"
she cried.
For some moments the District Attorney of New York stood looking
at the door through which she had disappeared.
Part II
The home of the Vances was in Thirty-fifth Street, nearly
opposite the Garrick Theatre. It was one of a row of old-
fashioned brick houses with high steps. As the seeker after
truth entered the front hall, he saw before him the stairs to
the second story; on his right, the folding doors of the "front
parlor," and at the far end of the hall, a single door that led
to what was, in the old days, before this row of houses had been
converted into offices, the family dining room. To Vera the
Vances had given the use of this room as a "reception parlor."
The visitor first entered the room on his right, from it passed
through another pair of folding doors to the reception parlor,
and then, when his audience was at an end, departed by the
single door to the hall, and so, to the street.
The reception parlor bore but little likeness to a cave of
mystery. There were no shaded lights, no stuffed alligator, no
Indian draperies, no black cat. On a table, in the centre, under
a heavy and hideous chandelier with bronze gas jets, was a green
velvet cushion. On this nestled an innocent ball of crystal.
Beside it lay the ivory knitting needle with which Vera pointed
out, in the hand of the visitor, those lines that showed he
would be twice married, was of an ambitious temperament, and
would make a success upon the stage.
Pages:
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61