Mollie, the apple of their eye, their treasure, their darling, was not
present, and the whole universe held nothing to compensate them for her
loss.
Mrs. Walraven, superbly attired, and looking more like Queen Cleopatra
than ever, with, a circlet of red gold in her blue-black hair, and her
polished shoulders and arms gleaming like ivory against bronze in her
golden-brown silk, presided like an empress. She was quite radiant
to-night, and so was Dr. Guy. All their plans had succeeded admirably.
Mollie was absolutely in their power. This time to-morrow scores of
broad sea miles would roll between her and New York.
The conversation turned upon her ere they had been a quarter of an hour
at table. Mr. Walraven never could leave the subject uppermost in his
thoughts for long.
"It is altogether extraordinary," Sir Roger Trajenna said, slowly.
"The first absence was unaccountable enough, but this second is more
unaccountable still. Some enemy is at the bottom."
"Surely Miss Dane could have no enemies," said Hugh Ingelow. "We all
know how amiable and lovable she was.
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