"
"Then I daresay you can work this up into something worth reading, for a
certain sort of book," Marie answered. "But--just in the telling it
isn't quite--quite--well, Angelo and I can stand it of course, but
Mary--I must think of her, you know. And I don't see how our opinion can
be of much use to you and Miss Jewett. So what is the use----"
"Of going on?" Idina caught her up, in a voice of iron or steel. "But I
particularly want Angelo's opinion as to what the end of the story
should be. It's for a man to judge. If it bores you to listen, and you
don't think it's proper for Miss Grant----" She paused significantly,
and her look flung venom. But she had not fully counted on her cousin's
loyalty to his wife, his indifference, almost amounting to dislike at
last, for herself.
"Don't you feel, Idina," he interposed with a deadly quietness she knew
to be a danger-signal, "that any story which--er--bores my wife had
better be left untold in her house? If you really wish to have my
opinion on this plot of which you think so much, write the rest out for
me, and I'll let you have my verdict."
With a swift movement Idina stood up. For once the statue-white face was
flushed with a dull, disagreeable red which made her almost ugly. She
looked tall and forbidding. "Write!" she repeated in a tone of
suppressed fury, deep as a man's. "Do you think my letter would ever
come to your eyes? _She_ would destroy it before it could get to
you--cunning cat that she is.
Pages:
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475