The novelist knocked the ashes from his pipe by tapping it on the veranda railing. The action seemed to express a peculiar mental effort; as though he were striving to recall something that had gone from his memory. "I saw what happened at the depot, of course," he said slowly. "I have seen the woman before. She lives here in Fairlands. Her name is Miss Willard. No one seems to know much about her. I can't get over the impression that I ought to know her--that I have met and known her somewhere years ago. Her manner, yesterday, at seeing Mrs. Taine, was certainly very strange." As if to free his mind from the unsuccessful effort to remember, he rose to his feet. "But why should she be added to the characters in my novel, Mr. King? What does she represent?"
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"Her name,"--said the artist,--"in your study of life, is suggested by her face--so beautiful on the one side--so distorted on the other--her name should be 'Symbol'."
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"There really is hope for you," returned the older man, with his quizzing smile. "Good night. Come, Czar." He passed into the hotel--the dog at his heels.
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It was two days later--Thursday--that Conrad Lagrange made his memorable visit to the Taines--memorable, in my story, because, at that time, Mrs. Taine gave such unmistakable evidence of her interest in Aaron King and his future.
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