"
"That is unfortunate," said Stuart. "I should have liked to go up
there for a while--she might help me correct the proofs, you know."
That's what he said, but he didn't deceive me. He loved her, and I
began again to hope to gracious that Harley had not deceived himself
and me, and that Marguerite Andrews was a bit of real life, and not a
work of the imagination.
At any rate, Harley had an abiding faith in her existence, for the
following Monday night he packed his case and set out for Lake
George. He was going to explore, he said.
CHAPTER X: BY WAY OF EPILOGUE
"Let, down the curtain, the farce is done."
- RABELAIS.
I suppose my story ought to end here, since Harley's rebellious
heroine has finally been subdued for the use of his publishers and
the consequent declaration of dividends for the Harley exchequer; but
there was an epilogue to the little farce, which nearly turned it
into tragedy, from which the principals were saved by nothing short
of my own ingenuity. Harley had fallen desperately in love with
Marguerite Andrews, and Marguerite Andrews had fallen in love with
Stuart Harley, and Harley couldn't find her.
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