I shall see Mrs. Walraven immediately after
breakfast."
"But she is ill."
"Bosh! She's shamming. She's afraid to show her wicked, plotting face.
She's lying there to concoct some new villainy. I won't spare her--she
didn't spare you. I'll send her packing, bag and baggage, before the
week's out."
"And if she refuses to go, guardy?"
"Then," cried Mr. Walraven, with flashing eyes, "I'll make her go. I'll
have a divorce, by Heaven! She'll find she can't commit high felonies in
this enlightened age and go unpunished. I'd see her boiled alive before
I'd ever live with her again."
With which spirited declaration Mr. Walraven finished his breakfast and
arose. His first proceeding was to ring the bell violently. One of the
kitchen damsels answered.
"Go to Mrs. Walraven's room and tell her Mr. Walraven is coming to see
her."
The girl, looking rather surprised, hastened to obey.
Mr. Walraven took a turn or two up and down the room, "nursing his wrath
to keep it warm."
"The more I think of this infernal business, Mollie," he burst out, "the
more enraged I get.
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