Her object was most purely feminine--love
of mischief, and the gratification of private spite! There's nothing
like frankness!" and Lord Winsleigh's face was a positive study as he
spoke. "You see,"--he made a slight gesture towards his wife, who stood
speechless, and so pale that her very lips were colorless--"her ladyship
is not in a position to deny what I have said. Excuse her silence!"
And again he smiled--that smile as glitteringly chilled as a gleam of
light on the edge of a sword. Lady Winsleigh raised her head, and her
eyes met his with a dark expression of the uttermost anger. "Spy!" she
hissed between her teeth,--then without further word or gesture, she
swept haughtily away into her dressing-room, which adjoined the boudoir,
and closed the door of communication, thus leaving the two men alone
together.
Errington felt himself to be in a most painful and awkward position. If
there was anything he more than disliked, it was a _scene_--particularly
of a domestic nature.
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