"
"You seem to dislike Doctor Oleander very much?"
"I do," said Mollie, pithily. "I'd give him and the handsome Blanche a
dose of strychnine each, with all the pleasure in life, if it wasn't a
hanging matter. I don't care about being hanged. It's bad enough to be
married and not know who your husband is."
"It may be this Doctor Oleander."
Mollie's eyes blazed up.
"If it is!"--she caught her breath and stopped--"if it is, Miriam, I vow
I would blow his brains out first, and my own afterward! No, no, no!
Such a horrible thing couldn't be!"
"Do you know, Mollie," said Miriam, slowly, "I think you are in love?"
"Ah! do you really? Well, Miriam, you used to spae fortunes for a
living. Look into my palm now, and tell me who is the unhappy man."
"Is this artist you speak of handsome and young?"
"Handsome and young, and tolerably rich, and remarkably clever. Is it
he?"
"I think it is."
Mollie smiled softly, and looked into the glowing mask of coals.
"You forget I refused him, Miriam."
"Bah! a girl's caprice. If you discovered he was your mysterious
husband, would you blow out his brains and your own?"
"No," said Mollie, coolly.
Pages:
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181