"No doubt," rejoined Paul, with significance; "jealousy between women has caused many a crime."
"Is that a hit at me?" asked Miss Clyde, good-humouredly: "because, if it is, it falls short of the mark. You infer that I was jealous of that poor dead girl because Lucas Lovel made love to her."
"Report says so."
"Report says many things that are untrue," retorted Miss Clyde contemptuously; "but in this case the gossips were not altogether wrong. I love Mr. Lovel, as you know very well; as all the countryside knows. Why should I conceal my feelings? I have no one to think of but myself, and I can look after myself very well, I assure you. Lucas--I can call him so to you, Mr. Mexton, as this is a confidential conversation--is a scamp, and a weak-minded fool; but I love him for all that. Queer, isn't it?"
Paul looked at the masculine strength of the woman's face, into her shrewd eyes, and at the firm set of her mouth. "It is queer," he admitted; "you do not look the sort of a woman to be attracted by a wastrel like Lovel."
"Nevertheless I am; by the law of contraries no doubt. Well, I admit that I was jealous of his preference for Milly Lester. Her beauty and fascinations of manner excited my envy; and as she had the whole neighbourhood at her feet, I grudged that she should take my ewe-lamb."
"The whole neighbourhood!" echoed Paul.
"Well, Mr. Herne, Mr. Lovel, and Mr. Chaskin. The pick of the countryside."
"Nonsense! Mr. Chaskin did not love Milly!"
"There you are wrong," rejoined Miss Clyde drily. "He adored her, and only crushed down his passion because of his friendship for Herne. Oh, I know it for a fact. Mrs. Drass found it all out."