“It’s true. He was always after her. She told me so herself, and how glad she was that the wretch had been sent to prison—of course, because he was in the way just then.”
“Go on,” growled Rolph. “A jealous woman will say anything.”
“Jealous?—I?—Pah!—Only angry with myself because I was so weak as to listen to you.”
“And I was so weak as to say anything to a malicious, deceitful cat of a girl, who is spiteful enough to do anything.”
“I, spiteful?—Pah!”
“Well, malicious then.”
“Perhaps I shall be. I wonder what dear Glynne would say about this business. Suppose I told her that our honourable and gallant friend, as they call it in parliament, had been on a visit to that shameless creature whom poor auntie had been compelled to turn away from the house, and in his honourable and gallant visit arrived just in time to witness the end of a lover’s quarrel; perhaps you joined in for ought I know, and—I can’t help laughing—Poor fellow! You did. You have been fighting with your rival, and bruised your knuckles. Did he beat you much, Rob, and win?”
Robert Rolph was dense and brutal enough, and his cousin’s words made him wince, but he looked at the speaker in disgust as the malevolence of her nature forced itself upon him more and more.
“Well,” he cried at last, “I’ve seen some women in my time, but I never met one yet who could stand by and glory in seeing one whom she had looked upon as a sister insulted like poor Judy was.”
“A sister!” cried Marjorie, contemptuously. “Absurd!—a low-born trull!”