“Unity?” cried Stella, taken off her guard.
“Yes, darling. You went and saw her the other day, did n't you? Oh, no matter how I know. I only mention it to let you see that I 'm telling the truth. They 'll tell you all sorts of things about me and her; but they 're all lying. What do you think of our friend John's relations with Unity?”
“Mr. Risca is Unity's guardian,” said Stella in a cold voice.
The woman laughed again. “You little fool! She's his mistress.”
Unity again, with the baffling mystery surrounding her! The woman spoke directly, as if in complete revelation. Yet Stella was still in darkness, and the uncontrollable feminine groped toward the light.
“I don't understand what you mean,” she said haughtily.
“You mean to tell me you don't understand what a man's mistress is?”
It took her a few moments to appreciate the virginal innocence of the white and rigid thing in woman's guise. When she did appreciate it, she laughed aloud.
“You pretty lamb, don't you know what a wife is?”
Stella stood, the cliff above her, the cliff below, midway between her sky and her beloved and dancing sea, a hard-eyed statue. The supreme and deliciously unexpected moment of the criminal woman's life had come. She rose and held Stellamaris with her pale-green eyes, and in a few brutal words she scorched her soul.