deeply for their truth. Wounded vanity and baffled will can make an
ungenerous man as spiteful as a woman; and Mr. Fletcher proved it
then, for he saw where Christie's pride was sorest, and touched the
wound with the skill of a resentful nature.

As she paused, he softly clapped his hands, saying, with a smile
that made her eyes flash:

"Very well done! infinitely superior to your 'Woffington,' Miss
Devon. I am disappointed in the woman, but I make my compliment to
the actress, and leave the stage free for another and a more
successful Romeo." Still smiling, he bowed and went away apparently
quite calm and much amused, but a more wrathful, disappointed man
never crossed those sands than the one who kicked his dog and swore
at himself for a fool that day when no one saw him.

For a minute Christie stood and watched him, then, feeling that she
must either laugh or cry, wisely chose the former vent for her
emotions, and sat down feeling inclined to look at the whole scene
from a ludicrous point of view.

"My second love affair is a worse failure than my first, for I did
pity poor Joe, but this man is detestable, and I never will forgive
him that last insult. I dare say I was absurdly tragical, I'm apt to
be when very angry, but what a temper he has got! The white, cold
kind, that smoulders and stabs, instead of blazing up and being over
in a minute. Thank Heaven, I'm not his wife! Well, I've made an
enemy and lost my place, for of course Mrs. Saltonstall won't keep
me after this awful discovery. I'll tell her at once, for I will
have no 'little secrets' with him. No Paris either, and that's the