If
Hugh Ingelow had seen the rosy light that leaped into her cheeks, the
glad sparkle that kindled in her eyes at the sound of his name, he could
hardly have been insensible to their flattering import.
Mr. Ingelow congratulated her on her bright looks as he shook hands.
"I never saw you looking better," he said, with earnest admiration.
"Looks are deceitful, then," said Mollie, shaking her early head
dolefully. "I don't think I ever felt worse, even when cooped up in
Doctor Oleander's prison."
"Really! What has gone wrong now?" the artist inquired.
"Everything dreadful! The most shocking tempests in tea-pots. Guardy is
going to separate from his wife!"
"Indeed!" said Mr. Ingelow, coolly. "The very best thing he could do."
"Oh, Mr. Ingelow!"
"Quite true, Mollie. She's a Tartar, if ever there was a Tartar. He
committed a terrible act of folly when he married her; let him show his
return to wisdom by sending her adrift. I don't pity her in the least.
If he forgave her this time, she would simply despise him, and begin her
machinations all over again.
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