Cesare, your money never made any
difference in my feeling for you--it didn't before and it doesn't to-
night--" She hesitated and blushed painfully, awkwardly.
The cigar fell from his hand and he rose, eagerly facing her.
"Lavinia," he asked, "is it possible--do you mean that you care the
least about me?"
"It must be that, Cesare, because I am so terribly afraid."
Later he admitted ruefully:
"But no man should resemble, as I do, a great oyster. I shall pay very
dearly for my laziness."
"You are not going to fight Mochales!" she protested. "It would be
insanity."
"Insanity," he agreed promptly. "Yet I can't permit myself to be the
target for vile tongues."
Lavinia abruptly left him and hurried to her sister's room. The door
was locked; she knocked, but got no response.
"Gheta," she called, low and urgently, "open at once! Your plans have
gone dreadfully wrong. Gheta!" she said more sharply into the answering
silence. "Cesare has had a terrific argument with Mochales, and worse
may follow. Open!" There was still no answer, and suddenly she beat
upon the door with her fists. "Liar!" she cried thinly through the
wood. "Liar! You bitter old stick! I'll make you eat that necklace,
pearl for pearl, sorrow for sorrow!"
A feeling of impotence overwhelmed her at the implacable stillness that
succeeded her hysterical outburst. She stood with a pounding heart, and
clasped straining fingers.
Abrego y Mochales could kill Cesare without the slightest shadow of a
question.
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