"I don't intend to sacrifice anything for Sir Guy Errington," she replied viciously, "but I intend he shall sacrifice all for me; his wife! his home! his honour! all he holds dearest in the world."
"And then?"
"And then he can go his own way. I have done with him," said Mrs. Veilsturm calmly.
"I wouldn't talk in such a melodramatic fashion if I were you," observed Griff leisurely, "revenge is all very well on the stage, but it's silly in real life. You stand to gain nothing, and lose a good deal."
"Do you think I can forget the insult his wife put upon me?"
"Well then punish the wife."
"I intend to--through the husband."
"Now look here, Maraquita," said her partner earnestly, emphasizing his remarks with his finger. "You take care what you're about. We've had a good time in London, but the game is pretty well played out. It's always advisable to leave a place with flying colours, so that one can come back again. People are talking about you already, don't let them talk any more, or you'll find all your lady friends give you the cold shoulder, and if they do, you may rest assured they won't be satisfied till they induce their husbands, fathers, and brothers to follow their example. I don't see the fun of such a scandal, especially as there's nothing to be got out of Errington. He's as poor as a church mouse. So leave him alone, and after the ball, we can go for America in good odour with everyone, and after a year or two in the States, we can come back here when a new generation arises that don't know Joseph. My advice is sound, Maraquita, and you know it."
Mrs. Veilsturm sat perfectly still during this speech, with her eyes cast down on the closed fan lying on her lap, but when the Major ended, she looked up suddenly with a sombre frown on her face.
"I've made up my mind what to do, and neither you nor anyone else will turn me from my purpose."