"No--no, I am not cruel," she answered cruelly, her anger reinforced by
a wave of jealousy anent Theo, "but as I do not love him, why should I
marry him? And this kind of thing had far better cease. After all, you
care for him far more than you care for me."
"_Grand Dieu!_"
"Yes, of course you do," she went on in the tone of gentle,
unimpassioned reason that women sometimes use in violent anger, to the
utter amazement and undoing of their male opponents. "And moreover, I
daresay if I really loved you as much as I thought I did, I should be
unable to refuse to do what you wish about my mother."
Joyselle's face was very white.
"What do you mean? Do you mean that your love for me was a mere caprice,
and that--it has gone?"
His agony was unconcealed, and as she gazed she smiled, for her own
torture was nearly unbearable.
"I shouldn't like to say it was only a caprice----" She hesitated, and he
sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands.
Suddenly he rose and seizing her arm roughly, gave her another cue,
which she remorselessly and instantly took.
"There is someone else," he cried, utterly forgetting that the very day
before she had loved him madly, "you love some other man.
Pages:
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238