"Aha!" said he. "You lof him. Aha! An' you were engage to him. Aha!"
"Yes, I really think so."
"Aha! Well, listen," cried Girasole, in a hoarse voice—"listen. He—he—de rival—de one you say you are engage—he is dead!"
And with this he fastened upon Minnie his eyes that now gleamed with rage, and had an expression in them that might have made Ethel quiver with horror, but she did not, for she knew that Girasole was mistaken on that point.
As for Minnie, she was not at all impressed by his fierce looks.
"I don't think you really know what you're talking about," said she; "and you're very, very unpleasant. At any rate, you are altogether in the wrong when you say he is dead."
"Dead! He is dead! I swear it!" cried Girasole, whose manner was a little toned down by Minnie's coolness.
"This is getting to be awfully funny, you know," said Minnie. "I really think we don't know what one another is talking about. I'm sure I don't, and I'm sure he don't, either; does he, Ethel darling?"
"De Inglis milor," said Girasole. "He is dead."
"Well, but I don't mean him at all," said Minnie.