"And is that all you care for me? Heavens! what different stuff we are made of, you can bid me to another, while I could kill. Nay, don't start. Yes, could kill a woman you might love. And the speaker looked her words, while there was almost a sob in her voice as her bosom heaved convulsively.
"My dear Mrs. Tompkins, you honor me too much; believe me, 'tis but a passing fancy on your part."
"Passing fancy, never! Listen; you say you love no woman in especial, wed me; love begets love; I am the wooer I know, but you are as handsome as a god, and I have been always one to speak as I feel; yea, and get what I want most days," she added, leaning forward and smiling into his mesmeric eyes. "Come to me," and her heart was in her words. "Come, you are poor in wealth, men say I have millions in gold, try and love me and—"
"And—and what next—Kate—by gad, a pretty speech, allow me to congratulate you. How do, Trevalyon; at your old game of slaughtering hearts?" The speaker had come from behind the curtains and was the owner of the wrathful eyes; a heavily built man of medium weight, a bold man with a handsome black beard, though the top of his head was bald. "You were always a good shot, Trevalyon, when the target was a heart," he repeated savagely.
"'Twas you, who bagged the delicate game, if I remember you aright, Delrose," said Trevalyon, with the utmost sang-froid as he leaned backwards and with his right hand fondled his long tawny moustache.
"George Delrose, what makes you here? You are Lucifer himself, I believe," said Mrs. Tompkins wrathfully, pushing his hand from her shoulder and starting to her feet.
"I gave strict orders to Peter to admit no one to my presence. I shall discharge Him, and at once."
"Take it easy, Kate, I have promoted him to my service."
"From gold lo brass is no promotion; he knows not the value of metals."
"Jove! how like they are, the same bold handsome style, reckless to the last degree," thought Trevalyon.