“Saints don't hire themselves to put away new-born babies,” retorted Mrs. Bray, with an ugly gurgle in her throat. “I told you at the time that she was a bad woman, and have not forgotten your answer.”
“What did I answer?”
“That she might be the devil for all you cared!”
“You are mistaken.”
“No; I repeat your very words. They surprised and shocked me at the time, and I have not forgotten them. People who deal with the devil usually have the devil to pay; and your case, it seems, is not to be an exception.”
Mrs. Bray had assumed an air of entire equality with her visitor.
A long silence followed, during which Mrs. Dinneford walked the floor with the quick, restless motions of a caged animal.
“How long do you think two hundred dollars will satisfy her?” she asked, at length, pausing and turning to her companion.
“It is impossible for me to say,” was answered; “not long, unless you can manage to frighten her off; you must threaten hard.”
Another silence followed.