His narrowed eyes searched
her heart, and his countenance grew every second more sinister,
"Y'u have been fooling me all evening, then?"
"Yes, and hating you every minute of the time."
"Y'u dared?" His face was black with rage.
"You would like to kill me. Why don't you?"
"Because I know a better revenge. I'm going out to take it now.
After your lover is dead, I'll come back and make love to y'u
again," he sneered.
"Never!" She stood before him like a queen in her lissom, brave,
defiant youth. "And as for your cousin, you may kill him, but you
can't destroy his contempt for you. He will die despising you for
a coward and a scoundrel."
It was true, and he knew it. In his heart he cursed her, while he
vainly sought some weapon that would strike home through her
impervious armor.
"Y'u love him. I'll remember that when I see him kick," he
taunted.
"I make you a present of the information. I love him, and I
despise you. Nothing can change those facts," she retorted
whitely.
"Mebbe, but some day y'u'll crawl on your knees to beg my pardon
for having told me so."
"There is your overweening vanity again," she commented.
"I'm going to break y'u, my beauty, so that y'u'll come running
when I snap my fingers.
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