"You were not loath to visit it, in spite of its being disreputable!" she exclaimed, sneeringly. "You never neglected an invitation. Where was the first place you went upon your return from India? In whose box did you linger longest at the opera? At whose side were you content to sit from morning until night, until she came with her cursed Indian beauty? Your vaunted virtue is of very recent birth! Do you forget that I know the story of Lena Moore?"
"How dare you mention that name—here!" thundered Leith, the passion of his tone frightening her. Then, remembering himself, he continued, more quietly: "As you said but now, my dear Jessica, you have played and lost. Why not retire gracefully from the table? You have done all the harm you can. Even the shameless story you would have repeated but now would not shake the faith of my promised wife—would not kill the love she bears me. But I do not propose that you shall pollute her pure ears with the story of a folly long since dead—the folly of a mere boy in the hands of a designing woman—but one which ended before harm was done. And now, go! Say to your mother that her ward is under the protection of her betrothed husband, and safe. I should be inclined to pity you but for the wrong done to this sweet and inoffensive child."
Jessica's lips curled scornfully.
"Pity me!" she repeated. "Why? Because you think I love you? Upon my word, your vanity blinds you, indeed! It was only your money that I craved—only the wealth with which you could surround me—only the position in which you could have placed me. After all, it is not so flattering to a man's vanity that it need incite his pity."
"And you would have married a murderer—gone into voluntary exile—for wealth and position?"
It was rather a mean thing for him to say, when he knew so well that it was only the excuse of a baffled woman; but it was very human, and he was only that. There was a half-amused, half-disgusted smile upon his lips that angered her more than a volume of words could have done. She bit her lips to prevent the flow of demoniacal fury that possessed her, then calmly drew on her gloves.
"Good-evening!" she exclaimed, carelessly. "When you have convinced Carlita of the truth of your statement regarding Lena Moore, and have succeeded in convincing the world that the forged telegram from Mexico was genuine, then, perhaps, I may congratulate you; but until then I shall reserve my good wishes for your future. It will not strengthen the story you wish to palm upon the public that my mother's ward left her roof for the shelter of yours before she became your wife, and that privilege my mother will contest, as you may remember Carlita is not yet of age."
Without so much as a glance toward Carlita, but with a stately bow in Leith's direction, she opened the door from behind and stepped out closing it upon herself.
Then she went downstairs swiftly, not waiting for the elevator, and into the street, her eyes blinded, her brain in a seething whirl of torturing madness.
Her turn had come at last!