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142
THE CITY OF MASKS

"It's Mrs. Millidew's car, madam," said the footman up beside Galpin.

"Never mind, Galpin," said Mrs. Smith-Parvis hastily. "We will get out here. It's only a step."

Miss Emsdale started. A warm red suffused her cheeks. She had not seen Trotter since that day in Bramble's book-shop. Her heart began to beat rapidly.

Trotter was standing on the curb, carrying on a conversation with some one inside the car. He too started perceptibly when his gaze fell upon the third person to emerge from the Smith-Parvis automobile. Almost instantly his face darkened and his tall frame stiffened. He had taken a second look at the first person to emerge. The reply he was in process of making to the occupant of his own car suffered a collapse. It became disjointed, incoherent and finally came to a halt. He was afforded a slight thrill of relief when Miss Emsdale deliberately ignored the hand that was extended to assist her in alighting.

Mrs. Millidew, the younger, turned her head to glance at the passing trio. Her face lighted with a slight smile of recognition. The two Smith-Parvises bowed and smiled in return.

"Isn't she beautiful?" said Mrs. Smith-Parvis to her son, without waiting to get out of earshot.

"Oh, rather," said he, quite as distinctly.

"Who is that extremely pretty girl?" inquired Mrs. Millidew, the younger, also quite loudly, addressing no one in particular.

Trotter cleared his throat.

"Oh, you wouldn't know, of course," she observed.