Kitty turned a little pale.
"The husband of Madame Midas," she said, in an annoyed tone. "Where is he?"
"Walking up and down in front of the dining-room."
"Remain here; I'll see him," she said, in a decided tone, and, without being noticed, left the room.
On entering the dining-room, she found Mr. Villiers seated at the supper-table drinking champagne from a half-empty bottle, having entered through the window.
"What do you want?" she asked, coming down to him.
Mr. Villiers was in his usual condition of intoxication, and began to weep.
"It's Kitty, dear little Kitty," he said, in a maudlin tone, "the friend of my dear wife."
"Your dear wife," said Kitty scornfully; "the woman you deceived so shamefully; she was well quit of you when she went to live in England."
"She left me to die alone," wept Villiers, filling his glass again, "and only lets me have a hundred pounds a year, and she's rolling in money."