Jacqueline of Golden River

by H. M. Egbert

I snatched the paper from his grasp and threw it on the floor, then pulled him to his feet.

"Enough of this nonsense, M. Duchaine," I said. "Will you conduct me to Mlle. Jacqueline immediately, or shall I go and find her?"

"I am here, monsieur," answered a voice at the door; and I whirled, to see Jacqueline confronting me.

CHAPTER XIV

SOME PLAIN SPEAKING

I took three steps toward her and stood still. For this was Jacqueline; but it was not my Jacqueline. It might have been Jacqueline's grandmother when she was a girl—this haughty belle with her high waist and side curls, and her flounced skirt and aspect of cold recognition.

She did not stir as I approached her, but stood still, framed in the door-way, looking at me as though I were an unwelcome stranger. My outstretched arms fell to my sides. I halted three paces in front of her. There was no answering welcome on her face, only a cold little smile that showed she knew me.

"Jacqueline!" I cried. "It is I, Paul! You know me, Jacqueline?"

Jacqueline inclined her head. "Oh, yes; I know you, monsieur," she answered. "Why have you come here?"