"Thoroughly good, and dear, doubtless to his wife, the affectionate
Blanche."
"You don't like him--you don't like her," said Bernard.
"Those are two very different matters. I am very sorry for Mr. Wright."
"You need n't be that. He is doing very well."
"So you have already informed me. But I am sorry for him, all the same."
"That does n't answer my question," Bernard exclaimed, with a certain
irritation. "What part were you playing?"
"What part do you think?"
"Have n't I told you I gave it up, long ago?"
Angela stood with her back to the fire, looking at him; her hands were
locked behind her.
"Did it ever strike you that my position at Baden was a charming
one?--knowing that I had been handed over to you to be put under the
microscope--like an insect with a pin stuck through it!"
"How in the world did you know it? I thought we were particularly
careful."
"How can a woman help knowing such a thing? She guesses it--she
discovers it by instinct; especially if she be a proud woman."
"Ah," said Bernard, "if pride is a source of information, you must be a
prodigy of knowledge!"
"I don't know that you are particularly humble!" the girl retorted. "The
meekest and most submissive of her sex would not have consented to have
such a bargain as that made about her--such a trick played upon her!"
"My dearest Angela, it was no bargain--no trick!" Bernard interposed.
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