Page:Frank Owen - The Actress.djvu/13



As the music of the dance ceased, Olga Fullerton stole, unnoticed, out onto the balcony of the great house overlooking the Hudson. She sighed softly as she sank upon a divan. She was very tired. All night the dance had been in progress at the home of the Waddington's, and now it was almost dawn. She gazed wistfully out over the softly rippling water lapping drowsily among the rocks of the Palisades. Over the great rock wall the moon was softly rising, throwing the entire river into delightful shadow.

"It is all magnificent," she breathed rapturously.

"Yes," said a voice speaking at her elbow, "very magnificent."

With a start, she glanced up into the smiling face of Jerold Wharton. Rugged as a rock, he stood and gazed down upon her lovely shoulders in open admiration.

"I have waited here for nigh an hour," he continued.

"You wished to see me?"

"Yes, I wished to see you."

"But how did you know I would come here?"

He smiled slightly. The Actress