“It is useless—” began John Temple; but with a little airy wave of her hand she interrupted him.
“Pardon me,” she said, “it may be very useful to us both. I have come with a purpose; a purpose which I am quite sure will be a welcome one to you; I want you to help me to get rid of you.”
Again she laughed, and then flung back her veil and stood looking steadily at the husband who had forsaken her. She was a handsome woman, but John Temple saw no beauty in the large, bright, restless gray eyes; in the mocking, saucy lips.
“I do not understand you,” he answered, coldly.
“Not yet; but you will by and by. So this is your new inheritance?” she continued, looking round at the wooded park, with the fine gray old mansion standing in its midst. “My friend John, I had no idea I had made such a good match,” she added, mockingly.
“If you have come to talk thus, our interview must end.”
“What! grudge me a word or two, after these long years? Well, come, that is mean of you. But I have not come to talk nonsense, but sense. I have come, in fact, to talk business.”
“I suppose you want your allowance increased?”
Kathleen Weir nodded.
“That I certainly do,” she said, “and my terms have gone up since I have seen what a fine place you have got. But it is not only about my allowance I want to talk; I want to know if we can not arrange a divorce between us?”