“I warn you fairly, I don’t believe you. However, I suppose you must have your own way,” returned Lady Teignmouth. And reaching out her hand for a silver flask that lay on the dressing-table, she poured half its contents into her coffee-cup, and drank it off like one well accustomed to potent drafts.
Lady Gwendolyn watched her with rising horror and dismay. The other laughed defiantly, pretending to be vastly amused at the effect she saw she had created.
“I thought I should shock you,” she said; “but, really, I have such miserable nerves, I could not get on without stimulants. Now, you may talk as much as you like; only you will try and be a little more interesting, won’t you? You have no idea how prosy you have grown of late.”
“I am afraid you will think me worse than prosy before I have done, Pauline; but I cannot compromise with my conscience. You must know the exact truth——”
“I hate truths,” interrupted Lady Teignmouth petulantly.
“I dare say; nevertheless, you must listen to me. You are my brother’s wife, and for his sake I will spare you if I can. But you must leave Bridgton directly; do you hear?”
“Yes, I hear,” replied Pauline obstinately; “but I have no intention of obeying.”
“Not if your safety depends upon it?”
“I don’t know what you mean. I am quite safe here.”
“Yon know better, Pauline.”