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A Poor Wise Man

"Don't talk like that, Jim," Elinor protested. She was very pale. "Are you sure he is
watching Lily?"
He gave her an ugly look.
"Who else?" he inquired suavely.
Lily sat still, frozen with anger. So this was her grandfather's method of dealing
with her. He could not lock her up, but he would know, day by day, and hour by
hour, what she was doing. She could see him reading carefully his wicked little
notes on her day. Perhaps he was watching her mail, too. Then when he had
secured a hateful total he would go to her father, and together they would send
her away somewhere. Away from Louis Akers. If he was watching her mail too he
would know that Louis was in love with her. They would rake up all the things that
belonged in the past he was done with, and recite them to her. As though they
mattered now!
She went to the window and looked out. Yes, she had seen the detective before.
He must have been hanging around for days, his face unconsciously impressing
itself upon her. When she turned:
"Louis is coming to dinner, isn't he?"
"Yes."
"If you don't mind, Aunt Nellie, I think I'll dine out with him somewhere. I want to
talk to him alone."
"But the detective - "
"If my grandfather uses low and detestable means to spy on me, Aunt Nellie, he
deserves what he gets, doesn't he?"
When Louis Akers came at half-past six, he found that she had been crying, but
she greeted him calmly enough, with her head held high. Elinor, watching her,
thought she was very like old Anthony himself just then.
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