“That I believe.” Rhoda shot this in like an arrow.
“But,” continued Severne, “if I hadn't, nobody would; for it is Vizard's justicing day, and the ladies are too taken up with a lord to come and meet such vulgar trifles as genius and learning and sci—”
“Come, come!” said Rhoda, contemptuously; “you care as little about science and learning and genius as I possess them. You won't tell me? Well, I shall find you out.” Then, after a pause, “Who is this lord?”
“Lord Uxmoor.”
“What kind of a lord is he?”
“A very bushy lord.”
“Bushy?—oh, bearded like the pard! Now tell me,” said she, “is he cutting you out with Miss Vizard?”
“You shall judge for yourself. Please spare me on that one topic—if you ever spared anybody in your life.”
“Oh, dear me!” said Rhoda, coolly. “I'm not so very cruel. I'm only a little vindictive and cat-like. If people offend me, I like to play with them a bit, and amuse myself, and then kill them—kill them—kill them; that is all.”
This pretty little revelation of character was accompanied with a cruel smile that showed a long row of dazzling white teeth. They seemed capable of killing anything from a liar up to a hickory-nut.