“I really don’t see why you should jump to a conclusion in that way.”
“Why, because you couldn’t very well be engaged to two people at once.”
“I am not engaged to anybody,” very haughtily.
“Not to Mr Anstruther?”
“Certainly not.”
“And yet you make him run this awful risk for the sake of your brother? Oh, nonsense! he knows he will get his reward when he comes back.”
“You don’t seem to understand,” coldly, “that some men are willing to do things without hope of reward. Since I have told you so much, I may as well say that if Mr Anstruther chooses to ask me to marry him when he comes back, he will do it knowing that I shall refuse him again.”
“Again?” cried Flora. “Would you like to know what I think of you? Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t, but I am going to tell you. If you happened to be plain—but no, if you were a plain woman, you wouldn’t find men to do this sort of thing for you—if you were any one but Queen Mab, people would say you were absolutely mean! It’s simply and solely the celebrated smile that makes you able to do these horrid things, and you presume upon it.”
“Oh, don’t, please!” entreated Mabel. “That’s Dick’s word.”
The tables were turned, and Flora became the criminal instead of the avenger of justice. She had seized upon one of Mabel’s dearest memories with which to taunt her, and she was silent for very shame. It tended to deepen her remorse that Mabel betrayed no anger, only a gentle forbearance that cut the accuser to the quick.