The countenance of Miss Mystery was ever changing. Now, she was a wistful-eyed child, and in a flash she was an inscrutable young woman—only to change the next instant to a wrongly accused and innocent martyr.
Anyway, Lockwood told himself, he meant to win her, and if Trask stood in his way, Trask must be set aside, that was all. An indomitable will ought to be able to conquer the intents of a self-made, unattractive man of Trask’s type. And, too, a love like his own, surging more fully every moment must appeal to the girl, once he could get a chance to declare it.
Lockwood was by no means a conceited man, but he had a true sense of value and he knew that he was a fitter mate for Miss Mystery than Trask, if the girl could know them both.
“I know a lawyer,” Lockwood began, “here in Corinth. Might he not be a better man for you, Miss Austin, than a stranger in the town?”
“Just why?” Trask said, his eyes coldly scanning Lockwood’s face.
“Because he would have known Doctor Waring, and—and all the circumstances,” Lockwood concluded a little lamely.
“Not much of an argument,” Trask dismissed the suggestion. “Also, I promise not to cost the lady as much as any other counsel would.”
This speech was accompanied by an admiring glance that was so nearly a smirk that Lockwood with difficulty kept his hands off Trask’s throat.
Mrs. Peyton, who with Helen had sat almost wordless through the whole session, now rose to go.
“Come, Helen,” she said, “we are of no use here, and I’d rather take you away.”