“Well—quick, tell me!” cried Laura.
“Bai Jove! how excited you are!” said Max, laughing insolently, and taking evident delight in probing his sister’s wounds. “Charley is hard at work trying to find out her address.”
“Yes, yes!” cried Laura, pressing her hand to her side.
“And he’ll be sure to find it sooner or later.”
“Yes, yes!” cried Laura pitifully, her eyes flashing with jealous hate the while she stood before her brother, the style of woman who, had she lived at an earlier period, would have gladly taken a leaf from the book of Lucrezia Borgia, and ridded herself of her rival.
“Well,” said Max coolly, “I said he’d be sure to find it out, didn’t I?”
“Max—Max! why do you torture me?” cried Laura. “Tell me how you will manage, when you say that you will leave him to find out what should be yours to do, if there is to be any faith in your promise!”
“Faith!—yes, bai Jove, you may have faith in me! And there, I won’t hurt your feelings any more. Charley will find out the address, and so shall I.”
“But how?” cried Laura passionately, stamping her foot.
“How? Why, bai Jove, I shall watch him!”