"
"I did not think of it as a service," she said, bitterly.
"Ah, now the occasion has come back to you. What, not a service when a
lady has a little bottle of poison stuck into her belt, and a man drinks
it himself rather than she should keep her threat and swallow it!"
"It was not a threat. I would have drunk the poison and ended
everything," she insisted.
"If I hadn't been so selfish and greedy as to take it out of your hand
and sample it. Strange it did me no harm. I had a presentiment it
wouldn't, somehow. But of course my system may be poison-proof. By the
way, isn't that the same pretty little bottle I see now, tucked into
your belt! And were you thinking of trying its effect again to-night, if
these friends hadn't come in time to cheer you up, and so put off the
evil day?"
"You are very cruel to make sport of my tragedy, Monsieur!" Madame
d'Ambre exclaimed, her soft wistfulness flashing into anger. "These
sympathetic ones have saved me from myself by their generosity. They
have made me happy. Why do you go out of your way to remind me of
misery?"
Schuyler's blue eyes twinkled cynically, yet not unkindly. "I quite
understand that you can be saved from yourself only by sufficient
generosity, Madame," he said. "The question is, what is sufficient? Too
much sometimes goes to the head. Far be it from me to upset your cup of
happiness. But drink wisely, Madame, in little sips, not in great gulps.
It's better for the health--of all concerned.
Pages:
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145