The remembrance of that episode kept alive in his breast a tiny spark of resentment.
“She should not have been so resentful, after all that she had done. She should have accepted the first overture I made toward peace,” he thought.
But Louise Barry was not idle. She foresaw all too plainly that the time was not far distant when Cecil Laurens’ love would break down his pride, and force him to seek reconciliation with his lovely young wife.
“And when that hour comes I shall be lost, for Molly will betray me as soon as she can find any one to listen,” she said to herself.
The yellow eyes gleamed with fear and anger.
“It must not be!” she exclaimed, and a cruel purpose entered her mind.
She sent for Florine Dabol that evening, and the maid came to her in disguise, as she always did.
“Florine, you promised to rid me of that woman!” she exclaimed, reproachfully.
The maid tossed her head.
“Ma foi, what can I do? I have tried to make her desperate, so that she would run away or kill herself, but she will do neither. Had any one told me the half I have told her, I should have gone mad with jealousy. But this girl—I never saw such sadness, such dumb humility. She means to win him back by sheer humility and patience.”