The Girl in the Mirror Part 8

"You've been disappointed in something or some one," he said. "Oh," as she made a gesture, "don't think I'm belittling it! I know it was something big. But the finish you chose wasn't meant to be, or it would have come off. You see that, don't you? The very sun in its course took pains to show you to me in time to stop it. That means something, Miss Mayo."

She seemed slightly startled.

"It is Miss Mayo, isn't it? That's the name the elevator boy gave me, yesterday."

"It will do." She spoke absently, already on the trail of another thought. Suddenly she caught it.

"Then you brought the basket, or sent it?" she cried. "It was _you!_ How dared you!"

She had half risen from her chair. Bending across the table, he gently pushed her back into it.

"Sit down," he said, imperturbably.

She hesitated, and he repeated the command, this time almost curtly.

Under the new tone she obeyed.

"I'm going to tell you something," he went on. "I've exhausted my slender resources of experience and tact. I don't know what any one else would do in this situation; but I do know what I'm going to do myself.

And, what is a lot more important, I know what you're going to do."

She laughed, and he winced at the sound.

"That's easy," she said. "I'm going to finish the act you interrupted."

"Oh, no, you're not!"

Her lips set.

"Do you imagine you can prevent me?"

"I know I can."

His quiet a.s.surance impressed her.

"How?" she asked, half mockingly.

"Very easily. I can take you from this restaurant to the nearest police station, and have you locked up for attempted suicide. You know, it's a crime here."

The word they had both avoided was out at last. Although he had spoken it very softly, its echoes seemed to fill the big room. She shrank back and stared at him, her hands clutching the sides of her chair.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Wouldn't I? I'll do it in exactly fifteen minutes, unless you give me your word that you will never make another attempt of the kind." He took his watch out of his pocket and laid it on the table between them.

"It's exactly quarter-past twelve," he said. "At half-past--"

"Oh!--and I thought you were kind!"

There was horror in the brown eyes now and an antagonism that hurt him.

"Would it be kinder to let you go back to that studio and--"

She interrupted.

"How dare you interfere in my affairs! Who gave you the right?"

"Fate gave me the right. I'm its chosen specialist on the job, and you may take my word for it, my dear girl, the job's going to be done, and done up brown."

He lit a fresh cigarette.

"It will be mighty unpleasant for you," he went on, thoughtfully.

"There's the publicity, you know. Of course, all the newspapers will have your pictures--"

"Oh!"

"And a lot of romantic stories--"

"Oh--you--you--"

"But of course you can avoid all that," he reminded her, "by giving me your promise."

She choked back her rising fury, and made an obvious effort at self-control.

"If I agree to these terms of yours," she asked, between her teeth, "may I be sure that you will leave me in peace and that I shall not see you again?"

He looked at her reproachfully.

"Dear me, no! Why, you'll have to see me every day. I've got to look after you for a while." At her expression his tone changed. "You see,"

he said, with smiling seriousness, "you have shown that just for the present you can't be trusted to guide your own actions. So I'm going to 'stick around,' and guide them for a few days, until I am sure you are yourself again!"

"This--" again she choked on the words--"this is intolerable!"

"Oh, I don't think so. You can see for yourself that I mean well, and that I'm going to be a harmless sort of watch-dog. Also, you can depend on me to go off duty as soon as it's safe. But for the present you're going to have a guardian; and it's up to you to decide whether that guardian shall be Laurence Devon, very much at your service, or the police force of the city of New York."

She had her chin in her hands now, in her characteristic pose, and was regarding him without resentment. When she finally spoke, it was without resentment, too, but coldly, as one states an unpalatable fact.

"You," she said, "are a fool."

Laurie flushed, then smiled.

"That is not a new theory," he admitted.

"Two hours ago," she said, "I warned you that it would be dangerous for you to interfere in my affairs. Did I not?"

"You did."

"I warn you again. It may be a matter of life or death. Put your watch in your pocket, pay your bill, and take me home. Then go away and forget me."

Laurie glanced at the watch.