"Oh, come now," he began feebly.
"I thought I had made it clear to you and I hoped you would carry the marks to your dying day"—there was malice in her voice, and he winced—"that I do not allow you to dominate my life or to censor my actions. The 'nigger' you referred to was more of a gentleman than you can ever be, Marcus, because he has breed, which the Lord didn't give to you."
The waiter brought the tea at that moment, and the conversation passed to unimportant topics till he had gone.
"I'm rather rattled," he apologised. "I lost six thousand louis last night."
"Then you have six thousand reasons why you should keep on good terms with me," said Jean smiling cheerfully.
"That cave man stuff?" he asked, and shook his head. "She'd raise Cain."
Jean was laughing inside herself, but she did not show her merriment.
"You can but try," she said. "I've already told you how it can be done."
"I'll try to-morrow," he said after a thought. "By heavens, I'll try to-morrow!"
It was on the tip of her tongue to say "Not to-morrow," but she checked herself.