“Yes,” she replied, without hesitation or a qualm of fear in her voice. “That was my intention, but the devil’s emissary has blocked it.”
Without a trace of fear, quietly and strangely free from agitation, Constance made her way to the door, and laid her hand on the bolt to unfasten it.
Jack took hold of her small, round wrist, turned her about and pushed her back a few paces. “Note a beez in a da hurry, Signora.”
“Who are you?” she timidly asked.
“Ha, ha, ha, hic, Eesa compan-e-on say I beez a da devil,” Jack laughed jeeringly.
“Oh, very well,” she replied, mildly. “The devil is always hungry for someone. Who do you want now?”
“A Daize, a da Daize. Yous a lak a me, eh, a Daize?”
“No, no; the devil shall not have my heart. My precious darling now.” And Constance shrank from him, pressing the little form tighter to her breast.
“But you may have money,” she indifferently added.
Jack smiled and bowed obsequiously.