“But perhaps you would not feel that the claws were there as I do,” her large eyes dilating with earnestness. “You would see only that odd beauty and that grand air.”
“Copied from the theater,” he said, and Molly flushed hotly.
“Well, copied from the stage if you will,” she replied, curtly. “But all the same you would admire her, I am sure.”
“I should not,” he replied with decision, and Molly half laughed, then relapsed into seriousness and wrath again.
“Oh, how mean she was in that letter today! What a dig she gave me with her vicious claws! She ought to have known me better—ought to have been afraid—” she paused and bit her lips.
“What do you mean?” he asked, curiously, and a light of anger and resentment flashed all over the girlish face.
“Never mind,” she said. “Never mind, but I mean to pay her back, that is all, and—no one can blame me now!”
He was gratified at seeing her mind set against that odious step-sister.
“Miss Barry, I am glad you have had your eyes opened to the worthlessness of that girl,” he said, earnestly. “Her mother was an adventuress who inveigled your father into a low marriage that alienated from him all his friends and relatives. It is most fortunate for you that Mrs. Barry relented after his death and decided to make you her heiress.”
“Oh, yes, very fortunate,” said Molly, but it distressed him to notice that her tone was distinctly sarcastic, and that she clinched her little fists again as if in a secret fury.