"Then she's a young lady of very strong likes and dislikes, but at bottom is of a very affectionate nature."
"Affectionate to nearly every one but me," muttered Miss Staggles.
"She is intensely proud—"
"As Lucifer!" interrupted Miss Staggles. "This is her great weakness," went on Voltaire. "Her pride will overcome her judgment, and because of it she will do things for which she will afterwards be sorry. Is this true?"
"True to the letter. You must be a wizard, Herod Voltaire, or you couldn't have summed up her disposition so correctly."
"Her sense of honour is very great. She would sacrifice her happiness to do what was thought to be honourable."
"I believe she would."
"Then my path is marked out," said he, savagely.
From that time I could catch nothing of what was said, although they conversed for five minutes at least. But it was in whispers, so low that I could not catch a word.
Presently they got up and went away, while I, with aching head and fast-beating heart, tried to think what to do. Everything was mystery. I could not see a step before me. Why should Miss Staggles be so willing to help Herod Voltaire, and what were the designs in his mind? What was his purpose in getting at a correct estimate of Miss Forrest's character?