'Jealous of me?'
'It is a fancy of mine.'
Salome lowered her eyes.
'Oh, you fresh, you green dear!' laughed Miss Durham. 'Do you know what jealousy is?'
'By experience? No.'
'Come,' said the American girl, seating herself beside her on the same box, still with folded arms, resting now on her lap. 'Come! Supposing that I, instead of being hated and despised by your husband, were admired and loved by him. Would you not be madly jealous then?'
Salome looked round at her without flinching.
'Admire you he might, but love you——'
'More than he loved you!'
'He could not do it.'