They will ruin each other--they _must_
ruin each other; it won't be child's play when two people like that fall
in love. They will not stop at sighs, there is too much human nature
about them. It was a good idea to get him into the house. And to see her
go on with that child Effie, just as though she was its mother--it makes
me laugh. Ah, Beatrice, with all your wits you are a silly woman! And
one day, my dear girl, I shall have the pleasure of exposing you to
Owen; the idol will be unveiled, and there will be an end of your
chances with him, for he can't marry you after that. Then my turn will
come. It is a question of time--only a question of time!"
So brooded Elizabeth in her heart, madded with malicious envy and
passionate jealousy. She loved this man, Owen Davies, as much as she
could love anybody; at the least, she dearly loved the wealth and
station of which he was the visible centre, and she hated the sister
whom he desired. If she could only discredit that sister and show her
to be guilty of woman's worst crime, misplaced, unlegalised affection,
surely, she thought, Owen would reject her.
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