SEARCH
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Prev | Current Page 125 | Next

England, George Allan, 1877-1936

"The Flying Legion"

Thus your secret
will remain intact. Besides, no one will dare inquire into anything.
No one ventures to discuss or question any decision of mine."
Something of hard arrogance sounded in the Master's voice. The woman
thanked him, her eyes penetrant, keenly intelligent, even a trifle
mocking. One would have said she was weighing this strange man in
the balance of judgment, was finding him of sterling stuff, yet was
perhaps cherishing a hope, not untinged with malice, that some day a
turn of fate might humble him. The Master seemed to sense a little of
this, and took a milder tone.
"I must compliment you on one thing, madam," said he, with just the
wraith of a smile. "Your acting has been perfection itself. And the
fortitude with which you have borne the discomfort of that mask for
more than a week, to achieve your ends, cannot be too highly praised."
"Thank you," she replied. "I would have stood _that_ a year, to be one
of your Legion! But now--tell me! Isn't there any possibility of your
reversing your decision?"
"None, madam."
"Isn't there anything I can say or do to--"
"Remember, you told me just a minute ago you were not the type of
woman who entreats!"


CHAPTER XIII

THE ENMESHING OF THE MASTER
She fell silent, biting her full lip.


Pages:
113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137