‘Because I do,’ retorted Slivers. ‘I hate her; I hate McIntosh; the whole biling of them; they’ve got the Pactolus claim, and if they find the Devil’s Lead they’ll be millionaires.’
‘Well,’ said the other, quite unmoved, ‘all Ballarat knows that much.’
‘But I might have had it!’ shrieked Slivers, getting up in an excited manner, and stumping up and down the office. ‘I knew Curtis, McIntosh and the rest were making their pile, but I couldn’t find out where; and now they’re all dead but McIntosh, and the prize has slipped through my fingers, devil take them!’
‘Devil take them,’ echoed the cockatoo, who had climbed up again on the table, and was looking complacently at his master.
‘Why don’t you ruin your wife, you fool?’ said Slivers, turning vindictively on Villiers. ‘You ain’t going to let her have all the money while you are starving, are you?’
‘How the deuce am I to do that?’ asked Villiers, sulkily, relighting his cigar.
‘Get the whip hand of her,’ snarled Slivers, viciously; ‘find out if she’s in love, and threaten to divorce her if she doesn’t go halves.’
‘There’s no chance of her having any lovers,’ retorted Villiers; ‘she’s a piece of ice.’
‘Ice melts,’ replied Slivers, quickly. ‘Wait till “Mr Right” comes along, and then she’ll begin to regret being married to you, and then—’
‘Well?’