"The girl's done nothing," replied Nicholas, in his turn speaking angrily. "Only, Mab, you're so mightily jealous that if I look at a woman, you're down on me. And I'll not stand it, I tell you, Mab, I won't."
"Hush, for goodness' sake hold your tongue—at least while that creature is here," said Mabel excitedly. "We don't want to discuss our private affairs with kitchen folks."
This was said with such gratuitous spite and unnecessary insult that it struck Margie ludicrously, and she could not help smiling. Had she not been a lady, with a lady's instincts, intuitions, and gifts, such a speech would have galled her pride to the quick. As it was, however, it was such a silly, causeless exhibition of malice, and seemed, to sensible Margie, so unreasonable and childish that she was only amused.
"That's a bit too bad!" said Nicholas. "Anybody can see she's not one of the usual sort. Why, Mab, where are your eyes? Look at her hands and feet. She mayn't be tip-top, but she's not common."
But this kind of personal criticism, as if she had been goods and chattels, or a horse or dog whose points must be noted and described, was too much for Margie. Colouring deeply, she hastily gathered all her things together and hurried out of the room.
"Now we're alone, you might apologise, I think, for being so rude to me," suggested Mabel. "For people who are as good as engaged, I must say we behave queerly; or, at least, you do. I've a good mind to break with you for good and all."
"Well, do, and get done with it," said Nicholas savagely. "I'm sick of having it held over me as a threat. If you're so precious jealous now, what would you be if we were married?"
"Oh, Nick dear!" said Mabel, her voice trembling, her eyes filling with tears. "If I did not care so much for you, I should not be so jealous. But when we once really belong to each other, I shall be quite happy."
"Don't count your chickens before they are hatched, Mab," said the young man almost brutally. "I tell you frankly that unless you come into that money, I can't afford to marry you, and must look out for a girl—another girl—with money."
Mabel gave a little impatient stamp of her foot on the floor. "It's too bad," she said angrily; "that tiresome creature, Clara, crippled and helpless, unable to enjoy life or to do anything, and yet she's got all the money, and I nothing till she dies. It is a shame!"