“Are you a devil?  Where in thunder did you spring from?” he asked at last.

“You’ll make me a devil, with your tricks, Philip Searle,” she said, sipping the liquor, and looking at him wickedly over the rim of the tumbler.

“Ha! ha! ha!” she laughed aloud, as he muttered a curse between his clenched teeth, “I’m not the country girl, Philip dear, that I was when you whispered your sweet nonsense in my ear.  I know your game, my bully boy, and I’ll play you card for card.”

“Bradshaw” shouted Philip, going to the door and striving to open it.

“It’s no use,” she said, “I’ve got the key in my pocket.  Sit down.  I want to talk to you.  Don’t be a fool.”

“Where’s Bradshaw, Moll?”

“At the depot by this time, I fancy, for the carriage went off at a deuce of a rate.”

She laughed again, while he paced the room with angry strides.

“’Twas he, then, that betrayed me.  The villain!  I’ll have his life for that, as I’m a sinner.”

“Your a great sinner; Philip Searle.  Sit down, now, and be quiet.  Where’s the girl?”

“What girl?”

“Miranda Ayleff.  The girl you’ve ruined; the girl you’ve put in my place, and that I’ve come to drive out of it.  Where is she?”

“Don’t speak so loud, Moll.  Be quiet, can’t you?  See here, Moll,” he continued, drawing a chair to her side, and speaking in his old winning way—­“see here, Moll:  why can’t you just let this matter stand as it is, and take your share of the plunder?  You know I don’t care about the girl; so what difference does it make to you, if we allow her to think that she’s my lawful wife?  Come, give us a kiss, Moll, and let’s hear no more about it.”

“Honey won’t catch such an old fly as I am, Philip,” replied the woman, but with a gentled tone.  “Where is the girl?” she asked suddenly, starting from the chair.  “I want to see her.  Is she in there?”

“No,” said Philip, quickly, and rising to her passage to the door of Miranda’s chamber.  “She is not there, Moll; you can’t see her.  Are you crazy?  You’d frighten the poor girl out of her senses.”

“She’s in there.  I’m going in to speak with her.  Yes I shall, Philip, and you needn’t stop me.”

“Keep back.  Keep quiet, can’t you?”

“No.  Don’t hold me, Philip Searle.  Keep your hands off me, if you know what’s good for you.”

She brushed past him, and laid her hand upon the door-knob; but he seized her violently by the arm and pulled her back.  The action hurt her wrist, and she was boiling with rage in a second.  With her clenched fist, she struck him straight in the face repeatedly, while with every blow, she screamed out an imprecation.

“Keep quiet, you hag!  Keep quiet, confound you!” said the infuriated man.  “Won’t you?  Take that!” and he planted his fist upon her mouth.

The woman, through her tears and sobs, howled at him curse upon curse.  With one hand upon her throat, he essayed to choke her utterance, and thus they scuffled about the room.