“No, I’m waiting over. You close Saturday night. We’ll leave Sunday.”
With the last words, he leaned forward. She took a quick step toward the wide chair, then stopped abruptly.
“But what am I to do with Parsinova?”
He pulled out his pipe, reflectively examined it.
“Think of the novelty—I’ll have two wives in one.”
Her lips tightened.
“No, you won’t! I’m going to take that woman out on a lake this summer and capsize the boat—drown her! And the body will never be found. Then I’m going to let my hair go back to its own color! Which one of us is it,” she added suddenly, “that you love?”
He laid his pipe on the chair arm.
“The little girl who called to me in the dark. Now come back here, Lizzie Parsons, where you belong!”
“I’ll always be jealous of that Russian devil!” she warned him.