Her eyes swam with passion, as she leaned over the table whispering words of the most violent love in his ears.
Verisschenzko remained absolutely unstirred.
"How silly you were to send that postcard to Lady Ardayre," he remarked contemplatively in the middle of one of her burning sentences. "It was not worthy of your usual methods—a child could see that it was a forgery. If you had not done that I might have made you very happy to-night—for the last time—my little goat!"
"Stépan—what card? But you are going to make me happy anyway, darling
Brute; that is what I have come for, and you know it!"
Her eyes were not so successfully innocent as usual when she lied. She was uneasy at his stolidity, some fear stayed with her that perhaps he meant not to gratify her desires just to be provoking. He had teased her more than once before.
Verisschenzko went on, lighting his cigarette calmly:
"It was a silly plot—Ferdinand Ardayre wrote it and you dictated it; I perceived the whole thing at once. You did it because you were jealous of Lady Ardayre—you believe that I love her—"
"I do not know anything about a card, but I am jealous about that hateful bit of bread and butter," and her eyes flashed. "It is so unlike you to worry over such a creature—I'm what you like!"
He laughed softly. "A man has many sides—you appeal to his lowest. Fortunately it is not in command of him all the time—but let me tell you more about the forgery. You over-reached yourselves—you made John ignore something which would have been his first thought, thus the fraud was exposed at once."
Her jealousy blazed up, so that she forgot herself and prudence.