Through mist-dimmed eyes, dizzily, she saw the two arise. She saw the man she loved clasp Lucille's other hand. She saw the girl who had been her friend and confidante since childhood draw herself away from him with a lingering withdrawal that could mean—ah, what could it not mean? Polly fled to her room.
In Owen's subtle secret battle to retain control of the Marvin millions fate had never so befriended him. None of all the weapons or ruses that he had used to prevent the faithful attachment of Harry and Pauline was as potent as this little seed of jealousy.
Pauline rang for her maid.
"Tell Miss Hamlin that I am not at home," she said in a voice that started haughtily but ended in a sob.
"But, Miss Marvin—" Margaret tried to demur.
"Tell Miss Hamlin that I am not at home," repeated Pauline.
Lucille had just started up the stairs, leaving Harry with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
"Well, even if I caret do anything with that wild woman," she laughed back at him, "you know Pauline bears a charmed life. Nothing has ever happened to her yet. Guardian angels surround her—as well as heroes."
Harry walked into the library. The agitated Margaret met Lucille on the stairs.
"Miss Marvin is—Miss Marvin is not at home," the girl said, flushing crimson.