Molly.”
CHAPTER XLI.
Cecil Laurens turned sternly upon the deceitful maid.
“You say that you expected, feared this. Why did you not warn me?” He exclaimed in a voice whose stern impatience did not hide its key-note of agony.
“Ma foi, monsieur, I thought you did not care,” Florine replied insolently.
“What do you mean?” he stormed; and she answered with pretending humility:
“Monsieur neglected his wife and she was wretched. She cried out often that there was one in her own land who loved her, and that she repented now that she had left him for Monsieur Laurens! If only she could find him again—”
“Stop!” Cecil thundered angrily.
She paused obediently.
“Who has tutored you to this falsehood?” he exclaimed.