She glanced at him, then kicked at a stone sulkily.
“I always want money,” she retorted.
He put his hand in his pocket and took out a leather portemonnaie.
“Take this,” he said. “Do not look upon it as a bribe, please.”
She snatched it from his hand with an oath, and her black eyes glittered with mingled covetousness and anger.
“I could have every penny you possess, if I liked,” she exclaimed, “and I will if—but wait till to-morrow,” and, with a threatening gesture, she swept past him.
CHAPTER XXII.
AT THE ALTAR.
The morning broke as brightly as even the most superstitious of brides could desire. Annie and Mary knocked softly at Olivia’s door as the first bell rang, and Olivia opened the door herself, fully dressed in her plain morning-frock.
“Why, dear,” they exclaimed, “up already, and dressed, too! We were afraid we should wake you.”
“I have been up some time,” said Olivia. She did not add that she had lain awake all night listening to the hours as they chimed, and thinking how hideously unlike wedding bells they sounded.