Madelene experienced a hot flash of indignation.
"Do you mean to say you've allowed me to talk all this time and you haven't heard a word I've said?" she demanded in a thin, rasping voice.
"I'm sorry," murmured Frederick. "Pardon."
Then the girl lapsed into a sulky silence, and Frederick, too sick at heart, too indifferent to her likes and dislikes to care, did not encourage her to repeat what she had said.
It was perhaps a week later when young Mrs. Graves felt her first real jealousy. In the happiness of her hasty marriage, she had almost forgotten the story told her by the gossips of Ithaca. It was only when her husband's eyes were encircled and darkened by a far-away expression that Tess entered her mind. But even then, after a glance in the mirror, she dismissed the little singer contemptuously.
One morning just before breakfast, they were standing under the trees. On Frederick's face was that dreary look of discontent. Madelene contemplated him steadily. She had watched and studied, but had not yet solved the problem that occupied her mind. Was the squatter girl the obstacle? she wondered. It didn't seem possible. Frederick was so fastidious. Why, the girl could scarcely speak a word of good English! But it would do no harm to make sure. She decided to speak to her husband of Tessibel Skinner. But how?
Frederick owed her some consideration, and Madelene deeply desired he should be more attentive to her. Suddenly she laughed aloud. Frederick turned, the cloud partially lifting from his eyes.
"A happy thought, I dare say?" he inquired.
"Not very," answered Madelene flippantly. "I was wondering how long it would take that Skinner girl to earn enough money to pay for a trip like this."
Had a bomb gone off in his face, Frederick couldn't have been more appalled. His brows drew together in a dark frown; his face grew livid and tensely lined. Madelene noted the effect of her words. Her suspicion was confirmed,—the problem solved! It was the squatter girl who stood between her and her husband!