"You stole her from me by a vile trick. I saw the forged note you sent to her, and I know that you have betrayed her to some terrible fate; but by the God above us, if she has suffered wrong at your hands, Standish, your vile life shall pay the forfeit!"
"Bah! Hawthorne, this ranting is useless. She is alive, she is well, she is happy, and I have just come from keeping an appointment with the charming little beauty."
"Liar!"
"Do not bandy epithets so generously, Hawthorne. We really have no quarrel with each other—for she isn't worth it!"
"Liar! Hound!" and Hawthorne looked as if he could barely restrain himself from throttling his defiant foe.
But Standish kept his temper well in check, knowing that he could gain more thus than by losing it.
He smiled mockingly, and said:
"Those are hard words, but I think you will offer an apology for them presently. See! here is Geraldine's note to me. It is yours if you wish to keep it."
He thrust a crumpled sheet of paper into Hawthorne's hand, and by the glaring electric light he read: