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Cir,MOTION PICTURE
IhOl I MAGAZINE W
"Harry Robinson ! Who was he ? And how was he killed ?"
[She talked logically, but, good gracious! Who ever heard such a tale outside a paperrcovcrcd thriller?]
Carlotta smiled, a little wistfully. "Harry Robinson was a nice young Englishman," she said. "He used to come over the garden wall and make little love to me. I told him about the fat husband Hamdi Effendi had picked out of all the husbands in the world for me, and he asked me to run away to England with him. And so I did. Anyway, he was thin "
Sir Marcus
"Yes, Pasquale has met her," explained Sir Marcus. "He dined with me last week, and came across a slipper of Carlotta's in the drawingroom. I sent it to her room by Stenson, and she came out in her Turkish costume, the little rascal. Pasquale was delighted with her"
found himself saying, "Were you — in love — with this Robinson?" Carlotta shrugged her shoulders. "He was thin," she repeated, thinking it over ; then she
regarded Sir Marcus Ordeyne. °f course h was rather
,,J? , >» 1 *j horrid. Carlotta was
But so are you, she said, whimsical and sort o£
brightly. "I feel about the same cieverish, but Marcus
about the tWO Of yOU." wished she hadn't been.
"And when did the young man He kePl explaining things
leave you?" Sir Marcus pursued.
Last night. He
got off at his home station to tell his
family what he meant to do about
me. I was to wait for him in the
station for three hours this
morning. I did wait, but he
didn't come. Then I found
out that his train had
been wrecked. There
were six killed. He
, was one of the six."
"Aren't you sorry ?
Dont you care?"
Carlotta's eyes were candid, momentarily troubled. She might, thought Sir Marcus, have lost track of a nurse who had been kind to her — given her sweets. . . . "Of course," she said, "he was nice. He didn't want to die."
There was a little silence, then Sir Marcus said : "Have you no friends in England ?" Carlotta said : "Only you." Then, fearful that she had hurt him, she added, rv
33 J
PAGli