THE LOVE OF MONSIEUR
though to go nearer, and she rose to her feet, turning towards the house.
“Come nearer, monsieur, and I—I leave at once.”
Mornay’s brows contracted dangerously as he said:
“The hour is mine”; and then, with an angry irony, “You need not fear me, madame. I am no viper or toad that you should loathe me so.”
She looked defiantly up at him.
“There are things even less agreeable than toads and vipers.” The words dropped with cold and cruel meaning from her lips. In a moment she would have given her fortune to withdraw them. Monsieur Mornay stepped back a pace and put the back of his hand to his head where a patch still hid the scar upon his temple. He stammered painfully, and lowered his head as though bowing to some power over which he had no control.
“You—you mean the misfortune of my birth?”
Mistress Clerke had turned her face away
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