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Brebner, Percy James, 1864-1922

"The Brown Mask"

Her expression did not change."
"Do you imagine you can read her so easily?"
"Ah, Martin, I know; there is no imagination in it. Were I cunning with
a brush and colour, I could paint you a thousand of her expressions and
tell you the thoughts which lay behind them all. I am a lover, remember,
with all a lover's quick perception, although the lady I worship thinks
no more of me than of the soiled glove she casts aside."
Martin looked at him for a moment in silence, and then laid his hand on
his arm.
"Soiled gloves go in pairs, Master Fellowes."
"You mean--"
"There is small difference sometimes between a lover and a madman. Had I
my fiddle with me I might play to you all that I mean."
Fellowes drummed with his fingers on the little table before him for a
moment, and then seemed to shake himself out of a dream.
"There must be too few women in the world, Martin, when the desires of
so many men are for one. To-morrow--what must be done to-morrow?"
"I shall see her to-morrow afternoon; until then I cannot tell what is
to be done. A message will find you at your lodging?"
"Yes, I shall wait. If I do not hear, I shall make some excuse for being
at Lady Bolsover's again in the evening.


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