A gay little laugh trilled over Pansy’s lips as she blandly assured him that she had never seen him before in her life, that her maiden name was Miss Wilcox, and that she was a native of Louisville.
“This is the second time I’ve been told of my likeness to Pansy Laurens. It is a coincidence, nothing more. Such things often happen,” she observed carelessly. “By the way, you called to solicit custom for your business, I believe. You may leave your card, and I will refer it to my husband.”
Thus coolly dismissed, and quite ignoring the request for his card, Mr. Finley stumbled out, with a fixed conviction in his mind that Pansy Laurens had never been drowned at all, but had married this rich man and come back to triumph over them all.
He understood now why Juliette had sent him that little note, saying that her uncle’s wife would be glad to have him call, as she wished to make arrangements with him about supplying the family groceries.
“She recognized her, and wished for me to do so, unaided by any hint from her,” he thought and wondered: “What ought I to do about it? I hope I shall see Miss Ives soon, for this discovery places a mine of gold in my reach, and I must speedily find out in what way I am to make the most of it. Miss Ives is poor now, and Norman Wylde is comparatively so, as he will have no money until his father dies. I do not know which I should blackmail—Falconer or his wife.”
CHAPTER XX.
AN EVENING OF SUSPENSE.
When Pansy went to dress for dinner she was so particular that the maid smiled, and thought:
“Her husband has been gone all day, and she wishes to look her best this evening.”
But Pansy, looking for Norman Wylde’s appearance every hour, was anxious to appear as beautiful as possible in the eyes of the man who had wronged her so deeply.
A lovely dress of cream-colored mull and Valenciennes lace was donned. The sleeves were short, and the bodice was a low V neck. She wore no ornaments, except a diamond locket on the black velvet band at her throat and a bunch of creamy-white roses at her slender waist. Thus attired, she was so dazzlingly lovely when she descended to the parlor that Juliette fairly hated her, and could scarcely keep from saying so.