Jessica's eyes flashed fiercely as they wandered from his face to that
of the woman beside him.
"She is beautiful," she murmured beneath her breath. "She is beautiful,
and with him!"
All the love which had been aroused in her passionate heart surged up,
and, for the minute, almost turned to jealous hate. "Beautiful, and with
him." It was agony to her to see him as he bent down to catch some light
words of his companion, whose perfumed satin cloak swept by the
crouching girl, as the pair passed into the theatre.
Full well she knew that she herself could never hope to hear his voice,
or feel the pressure of his hand; yet it was with the bitterness of
death that she saw him pass her by in the company of this beautiful
woman. Mingled also with her jealousy was another feeling, that of
partial recognition. For the moment--she could not remember where--but
at some time in the past, she fancied she had seen that dark,
highly-coloured face, and heard the harsh vulgar voice.
As Leroy turned from the motor, she heard him say to the chauffeur:
"Be here at eleven."
"At eleven," she thought, "then I will be here too, and see him once
more.
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