The Hollow of Her Hand

IGHT'

tty. All his household cares, like the world, rested snugly on the shoulders of an Atlas named Pat, than whom there was no more faithful servitor in all the earth, nor in the heavens, for that matter, if we are to accept his own estimate of himself. In any event, he was a treasure. Booth's house was always in order.

not a day older than they were in the beginning. He used to wonder if Methuselah knew them. When he set up bachelor quarters for himself in New York, his mother bestowed these priceless domestic treasures upon him. They journeyed up from Philadelphia and complacently took

ver gets too old to learn, a conclu

ad found it quite impossible to keep a dog for the simple reason that Mary insisted on keeping a cat-

t refulgence, the after-glow of a red day, for the sun had shone hot since early morn through a queer, smoky screen of haze. There was a deep stillness over everything. Indolent Nature slept in the shadows, as if at

upon them, to revel for a while and then pass on, l

l of time, whose minutes were to check off the results of a fortnight's anticipation. He had not seen either of the ladies of

, the line of a white neck separating it from the raven hue of her hair. He paused at the lower gate to look. Then his gaze was drawn to the gleaming white figure at the top of the terrace, outlined distinctly against t

onded, long in advance of his lips. Hers was the inviting, mysterious smile of the Orient, with the eyes half shaded by drooping, la

you again," she said

d it's nice of you to see me," he added gracefully. Then he pointed up the terrace. "I

never finished, although she waited f

s not in the

omething's

. Her heart is in the lowlands. You would consider Wa

slowly. "You mean she

n my part, that's all. She may

me, you know. No one ever thinks of me when I'm out of view. Out of sight, out of mind. No;

to be thinking of things so remote.

er? Is it too near the dinner hour for you to let me sit here and rest before attempting to climb all those s

inscrutable expression in her eyes, and then sat d

e motor for you?" she asked, a

ath. "Motors don't aid the appetite. Aeroplanes are better. I had a flight wi

here, straight and motionles

it," said she. "Hetty tried it in France th

elphia for a few day

id

often nowadays that we

said he, with a significa

would a

lly keen

but her smile mea

t the portrait," sai

you want to do me also

him! I suppose it anno

dn't car

do

my own pleasure and satisfaction, you und

ible to make her prettier than she really is, you may paint me. I shall

hat," said he warmly, "it will be

half-closed, shadowy eyes, and

etty is eager to

the terrace. H

his portrait painted, Mrs. Wrandall. A queer sort of feeling

said, without

it. It's a nuisance, I know. But it isn't that sort of feeling I ha

will love it, once the picture is under way. It is the beg

on't know women,"

l where you first saw her, or is your me

ut I am absolutely positive I've seen her before.

e to you un

, not to be abl

the look of relief t

ever to forget the loveliness of her in that moment. He carried the image with him on the long walk home through the black night. (He declined Sara's offer t

He was so taken up with the picture they presented that he scarcely heard their light chatter. They were types of loveliness

the fact that two vastly different strains of blood ran through their veins. Apart, he would not have perceived this marked difference in them.

oulders, even to the slender throat. The hair of both was black and rich and alive with the gloss of health. The eyes of one

stibule, a servant cam

nted at the telephone

Yo

se, a condition which gave way an instant later to perplexity. The

e up later, Watson

s Castleton," said the man. "You were dres

terrupted sharply, wi

reason avoided me

xpect him on Friday,

er if it can be Leslie. If it IS-well, he wouldn't be

o the meaning of that expressive look. He only knew that she was in the telephone room for ten minutes or longer, and

, saying good-night t

to the ste

ce is lovely?" she asked

"Give you my word, though, I wasn't t

if in a dream. The

easy chair in which he had been smoking a

d. "I remember! I've got it!

nding about the house, and slept serenely until Pat

tch out all of the STUDIOS you can find about the place. The old ones are in t

f a bunch of thim,"

etty's wardrobe, ostensibly for the purpose of picking out a gown for the picture. As a matter of fact, he had decided the po

ns, with Sara as the judge from whom there seemed to be no

ed to this ruthless handling of exquisite fabrics by eager ladies of wealth: it was one way these pampered women had of showing their contempt for possession. Gowns came from every

It must have been her favourite gown. The smile faded away. The hand that dangled the garment before his eyes suddenly became motionless, as if paralysed. In th

n posing for an artist, and sitti

seemed to disturb her after a moment or two. She

late she wished she had not uttered the words. He

t, I think," he sa

e said d

ay, you haven

for a time. At last she l

ver posed for a portrait. It is a new experience for me. You will have to cont

tion no farther. Her answer had been so palpably

without receiving notice,-came shambling up the cottage walk late that afternoon, bearing two large, shoulder-sagging bundles. H

ot them?" h

es on the lower step

nched, turkey-red face

fter a spell of con

e demanded sarcastic

atrick," said B

e absolutely empty-handed,

taken. I was confident I

t was r'ally in thim. I've been wid you long enough

y to you, Patrick. I should

I to put t

blist

s,

e. And you might cut the str

ine in dignified silence. Carefully rolling it up in a neat

annyt'ing

not, at

a cup av

tha

h a splindid spell of idleness. Heigho! I'd like to be a gintleman av leisure all the time, that I would, sor. The touch I've had av it to-d

Pat's face wrinkled into

the painter, "in spite of

aid Pat magnanimously. "Whin you're t'rough wid the

matter wit

hey'd be handier for you to get at in the cel

departed, b

result. In any other cause he would have tired of the quest, but in this his curiosity was so commanding that he stuck to the task without complaint. He was positive in his mind that what he desired was to be found inside the covers of one of these magazines. He was searching for a vaguely remembered article on one of the lesser-known English painters who had given great promise at the time it was

Booth: the figure of a young woman in deep meditation standing in the shadow of a window casement from which she looked out upon the world apparently

ovely eyes were hers: the velvety, dreamy, soulful eyes that had haunted him for years, as he now believed. In no sense could the picture be described as a portrait. It was a study, deliberately arranged and deliberately pose

remembered going back to it again and again and marvelling at the subtle, delicate beauty of the thing. Now he knew that it was the face, and not the art of the painter that had aff

heads and figures, with little or no attempt to obtain a likeness. Some were half-draped, showing in a sketchy way the long graceful lines of the half-nude figure, of bare shoulders and breasts, of gauze

head of each of these remarkable studies suggested in outline the h

in hand. Hetty had not yet appeared. Sara, attired in a loose morning gown, was watching him from a comfortable chair in the corner, one shapely bare arm behind her head; the free hand was gracefully employed in managing a ci

ld get you just as you are, Mrs. Wrandall. Do you mind if

nged her position. She laughed at th

gan confusedly, but broke off with a laug

of a cigarette," sh

turned to busy himself with the tubes and brushes. When he glance

ng the simple white gown he had chosen the day before. If she was conscious of the rather intense scrutiny

irmly. "I shall be too dreadfully s

ra indolently abandoned her comfortabl

on?" he inquired, after a period of const

r hands," sh

so easily, so naturally, so effectively, that h

ed before, Mi

r a really truly portrait," she

Maurice Hawkright," he said, and at once experienced

the confusion or surp

raised her eyeb

do with me, Mr.

hed awk

k?" he inquired, with a

s," she replied, puckering h

ed for

t way, Mr. Booth?" she cried,

-er-that is, you don't

strange?" she inq

d, quite taken aback.

abberg

n yourself," s

Castleton," said he, still staring. "S

a bright smile of unde

lly remarkable double

ynn, the

t was one of relief, he remembered afterward. "If she is

lied compliment. "A chorus-girl, or something like that. They sa

critical eye of the artist. As he turned to the canvas with his crayo

have been Hetty Glynn who posed f

" said she i