The Mask | Page 3

number of Signor Keralios. Humming a tune, he said carelessly:
"Why didn't you call me?"
"What? Create a scandal? That would only make me ridiculous. He
wouldn't care. I can't bear the sight of the man, yet I have to be polite to
him."
Kenneth nodded.
"Yes--I have reasons for not caring to quarrel with Keralio just now."
She looked up quickly.
"Why? What is that man to you? He's your fencing master, I know, but
that's no reason for making a friend of him. I never understood why you
associated with him. He is so different to you."
Her husband smiled. He adored his wife and admired the sex in general,
but, like most men, he had never had much respect for women's
judgment. Women were made to be loved; not to discuss business with.
Indulgently he said:
"My dear, you don't understand. I have important financial relations
with Keralio. I don't care for him myself, but one can't choose one's
business associates. He and I are interested in a silver mine in Mexico.
Thanks to him, I got in on the ground floor. One of these days the
investment will bring me a big return."
His wife shrugged her shoulders. Incredulously she retorted:

"Not if Keralio has anything to do with it. I don't trust him. He has
deceit and evil written all over his face."
Amused at her petulance, Kenneth jumped up impulsively and took his
wife in his arms.
Abandoning herself willingly to his embrace, for a moment her head
fell back on his broad shoulder, and she smiled up at him. From her soft,
yielding form arose that subtle, familiar perfume, the intoxicating,
vague, indefinable aroma of the well groomed woman that never fails
to set a man's blood on fire. Bending low until his mouth touched hers,
he kissed her until her face glowed under the ardor of his amative
caress. But to-day she was not in the mood to respond.
"Don't--don't!" she panted, striving to free herself.
"Admit that you're foolish or I'll do it again," he laughed.
"Perhaps I am. It's selfish of me to make it harder for you to go away."
The butler reëntered the room with the finger bowls, and she quickly
disengaged herself. To hide her confusion, she turned to the servant:
"Did my sister go out, Robert?"
"Yes, m'm," replied the man respectfully. "Miss Ray told me to tell you
in case you asked that she had gone shopping and would be back soon."
"Where's Miss Dorothy?"
"The fraulein took her to the park, m'm."
"When fraulein comes in, tell her to bring Dorothy upstairs."
"Very well, m'm."
The butler went out and Helen turned to her husband. Anxiously she
said:

"I've been a little worried about Dorothy lately. She's not looking well.
I think she needs the country."
Kenneth looked up quickly. Next to his wife he loved his flaxen haired
little girl better than anything in the world. There was a worried look on
his face as he asked:
"What does the doctor say?"
"Oh, it's nothing to be alarmed at. Only she's growing fast, and needs
all the air possible. I'm thinking of sending her to Aunt Carrie for a
while. You know she has a beautiful place in the suburbs of
Philadelphia. She would be out in the air all the time."
"Yes--that's a good idea. Send her there by all means. Write your aunt
to-night."
Helen glanced at the clock. There wasn't any time to lose. Turning to
her husband she said quickly:
"You had better come upstairs and finish your packing, dear. Your
trunks aren't nearly ready and the expressman was ordered for three."
Recalled thus abruptly to the day's duties, he turned docily and
followed her upstairs.
Beautiful as was the Traynor home below, it was in the library in the
second floor that Helen always felt happiest and most at ease. Up the
broad, thickly carpeted stairs and turning to the right as the landing was
reached, they entered the library, a room of truly noble proportions
extending the entire width of the house and with deep recessed
windows and low seats, overlooking the park. The furnishings, though
simple, were rich and luxurious. The woodwork was of black Flemish
oak, the ceiling beamed with a dull red background. The upholstery
was a rich red plush throughout, with deep seated armchairs, and sofas
built close to the wall wherever space permitted. In the corners,
numerous electric reading lamps could be turned on or off at pleasure,
constituting ideal nooks for reading. The furniture, apart from the red

plush armchairs, was of black Flemish oak to match the woodwork,
with an immense richly carved black oak dark table in the center of the
room, lighted by an electrolier of similar size and design to