“I suppose so,” said the other listlessly. “She never cared for me, though, Dick. That scoundrel and she were old flames.”
“First, a lie; second, true,” said Dick quietly. “Renée is as good as gold; and when she found she was to be your wife, she accepted the inevitable and tried to do her duty, poor girl! She was already finding out what a bad one Malpas was.”
“Curse him! don’t mention his name here!” cried Morrison savagely.
“I say she was already finding out what a cursed scoundrel Malpas was when she married you.”
“She encouraged his visits afterwards,” cried Morrison fiercely. “The villain owned it to me.”
“And you didn’t thrust your fist down his throat?”
Morrison got up and paced the room.
“Look here, Frank, old fellow: you are beginning to find out what a donkey you have been. You are easy-going, and it’s no hard job to lead you away. Now tell me this: didn’t Malpas introduce you to a certain lady?”
“Yes,” was the sulky reply.
“Of course,” said Dick. “He takes you and moulds you like putty, introduces you to people so as to make your wife jealous, out of revenge for your supplanting him, and then tries to supplant you in turn.”