"Give him back to me--oh give him back to me," cried the young wife, clasping her hands. "You have many richer and better than he. I love my husband, and you have parted us--oh, do--do--give him back to me."
"My dear Mrs. Malton," replied the actress coldly, "I do not encourage him, I assure you. He's a bore, and I detest bores."
"But he loves you--he loves you--he worships the ground you tread on."
"A waste of good material; for his devotion will never be rewarded."
"Then you don't love him?" said Mrs. Malton breathlessly.
Kitty rose to her feet, and laughed bitterly.
"Love him--love any one," she muttered, with a choking cry. "I hate the whole lot of them. Do you think I care for their flattery, their kisses, their protestations--bah! I know the value of such things. Love--I hate the word."
"Yet my husband comes here," said the other timidly.
Kitty turned on her fiercely.
"Can I help that? Is it the candle's fault that the moths are attracted? I don't ask your husband to come; if he finds in me what he misses in you, it is your fault, not mine--your errand is useless, I cannot help you."