A
wonderful face and brilliant eyes were exposed to the quiet curiosity of
those who looked that way, and they were everybody. Floyd Vanderlip was
rather confused. The situation demanded instant action on the part of a
man who was not beyond his depth, while _he_ hardly knew where he was. He
stared helplessly about him. Mrs. Eppingwell was perplexed. She could
not comprehend. An explanation was forthcoming, somewhere, and Mrs.
McFee was equal to it.
"Mrs. Eppingwell," and her Celtic voice rose shrilly, "it is with great
pleasure I make you acquainted with Freda Moloof, _Miss_ Freda Moloof, as
I understand."
Freda involuntarily turned. With her own face bared, she felt as in a
dream, naked, upon her turned the clothed features and gleaming eyes of
the masked circle. It seemed, almost, as though a hungry wolf-pack
girdled her, ready to drag her down. It might chance that some felt pity
for her, she thought, and at the thought, hardened. She would by far
prefer their scorn. Strong of heart was she, this woman, and though she
had hunted the prey into the midst of the pack, Mrs. Eppingwell or no
Mrs.
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