“Not if I can help it, madame, never!” cried the maid. “But what can I do? When she bribes me to poison you and I refuse she’s going to manage it some other way, certainly. You’re in her way and his—don’t you know that, my poor young lady?—and,” dropping her voice to a warning whisper, “your life is more and more in danger every hour you stay in this house.”
She watched the beautiful face closely. It could scarcely grow more pale, but it was wild and startled.
“Florine, don’t let her kill me. I—I—will win my husband’s love back some day,” she moaned, holding out her trembling little hands.
Florine tossed her head.
“Never, never!” she exclaimed.
“Hush, Florine!” sternly.
“Very well, madame,” resignedly.
She sat quiet a few moments until Molly’s jealous love conquered her pride.
“Florine Dabol, why do you say such things to me? Do you believe that Louise has won my husband’s love from me?” she demanded.
“It is plain to be seen, madame. Such goings-on!” Florine tossed her head and shrugged her shoulders in a way that expressed volumes.