188 THE SILVER FOX 



Sheets of foolscap paper were scattered 

 on the table, the list of the furniture 

 sprawled over them in large, black, irregu- 

 lar writing. Slaney had seen that writing 

 before ; she felt as if she were in a bad 

 dream — a dream that she had dreamt 

 before, one that was both tragic and 

 ridiculous. 



'* Had I arrived lawst evening things 

 might have been different," went on the 

 yellow-haired lady; "but I missed my 

 train." 



Then, with an air that irresistibly sug- 

 gested the footlights, she moved from 

 behind the table into a clear space in the 

 room. The bad dream culminated ; Slaney 

 knew what was coming. 



" Perhaps I had better introduce myself," 

 said the yellow-haired lady, — "I am Mrs. 

 Glasgow." 



