"I am not on the jury," replied Sepia, with indifference.
The scope of her remarks seemed to Mary intended to show that any suspicion of her would only be natural. For the moment the idea amused her. But Sepia's way of talking about Tom, whatever she meant by it, was disgraceful!
"I am astonished you should seem so indifferent," she said, "if the character of a gentleman with whom you have been so intimate is so seriously threatened as you would imply. I know he has been to see you more than once while Mr. and Mrs. Redmain were not yet returned."
Sepia's countenance changed; an evil fire glowed in her eyes, and she looked at Mary as if she would search her to the bone. The poorer the character, the more precious the repute!
"The foolish fellow," she returned, with a smile of contempt, "chose to fall in love with me!—A married man, too!"
"If you understood that, how did he come to be here so often?" asked Mary, looking her in the face.
But Sepia knew better than declare war a moment before it was unavoidable.
"Have I not just told you," she said, in a haughty tone, "that the man was in love with me?"
"And have you not just told me he was a married man? Could he have come to the house so often without at least your permission?"
Mary was actually taking the upper hand with her! Sepia felt it with scarcely repressive rage.