"I don't; Dolly never gives me a chance of forgetting."
"Constance," Prelice spoke sharply, "you are a foolish, headstrong woman. Do you want to be disgraced?"
"There is no chance of that," cried Mrs. Rover in a fury. "How dare you talk to me like that?"
"Because I see you going headlong to ruin."
"You see nothing of the sort. I am a loyal wife, to Dolly. Ned knows that I love him now as I loved him before my marriage, and you know, Dorry, as he does, how my marriage came about."
"I know, but you ought to make the best of it."
"I am making the best of it," cried Constance, rising to stamp her foot in a royal rage. "There is not a breath of scandal against my name. No one can couple my name and Ned's together. We scarcely ever meet; but we can't prevent our feelings."
"Still," urged Prelice, in rather a futile manner, "since you have elected to become Mrs. Rover, you must consider your husband."
"Let him consider me first. I made a bargain with him, and he accepted, knowing that I loved Ned, and not him. He has broken that bargain in the meanest manner, and my father died of sheer worry through the breaking of it. Now I have to stifle my deep love for Ned, and act the part of a loving wife. I feel like a hypocrite."
"I don't think you need, Constance. People say that you treat Rover badly. It is as well that you should know."