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“If this is the truth,” he said, slowly, “I am extremely sorry for it. Jealousy not only denotes an entire lack of confidence and trust in oneself and another, but an inordinate amount of vanity.”

“I dare say,” she interrupted, sulkily, backing away from him. “But you cannot change me. I am as I am.”

“Look here, Laurence,” he said, gravely. “Assured of my love as you are, you cannot be really jealous. Surely I have given you no reason, be it ever so slight, for feelings that are so unworthy of you?”

Her brows met in one straight line above a pair of eyes in which there appeared for a second a sparkle of hatred.

“Well, then, if you love and adore me as you say you do, you might show me more consideration. To begin with, I will not tolerate your attentions to stupid ingénues, nor hear you praise ‘greatest ladies’—as you call them—to my face. I know you have made a sacrifice in marrying me, since I brought you nothing but myself; but as you have done so, I suppose you’ll have to abide by your bargain, such as it is.”