"So she says," he answered. "Do you care, Violet?"
"I hate her!" Violet cried, drawing herself from his arms and sitting upright, while rage and jealousy flashed from her eyes—"I hate her! She has stolen my lover from me!"
Walter's blue eyes flashed lightning.
"Violet, is that true?" he asked. "I thought my friend was the soul of honor; but if he has dared to trifle with your affections he shall render me an account for his perfidy!"
Violet only wept and sobbed, without replying.
"Tell me, dear," persisted Walter, "has Valchester made love to you, really, while he was slyly wooing Miss Meredith?"
Violet was obliged to admit that he had not.
"But if he had never seen her—if she had let him alone—I must have won him by the strength of my own love. He could not help loving me in time. Therefore, Lina has really stolen him from me," she persisted, most unreasonably.
Walter could not see that it was as Violet said. He tried to argue the case with her; but he soon found that Violet was too jealous and miserable to listen to reason. She only reiterated again and again her hatred of Jaquelina Meredith.
Walter took a great deal of blame to himself. He acknowledged that he had done wrong ever to have brought Ronald Valchester to Laurel Hill.