"
"For whom else should I care?" returned Miss Brewer, with a bitter
laugh. "Madame Durski is the only friend I can count in this world. I
have known her from her childhood--and if I can believe anything good
of my species, which is not very easy for me to do, I can believe that
she cares for me--a little--as she might care for some piece of
furniture which she had been accustomed to see about her from her
infancy, and which she would miss if it were removed."
"You wrong your friend," said Victor. "She has every reason to be
sincerely attached to you, and I have little doubt that she is so."
"What right have you to have little doubt or much doubt about it?"
exclaimed Miss Brewer, contemptuously; "and why do you try to palm off
upon me the idle nonsense which senseless people consider it incumbent
on them to utter? You do not know Paulina Durski--I do. She is a woman
who never in her life cared for more than two things."
"And these two things are--"
"The excitement of the gaming-table, and the love of your worthless
friend, Sir Reginald Eversleigh."
"Does she really love my friend?"
"She does. She loves him as few men deserve to be loved--and least of
all that man. She loves him, although she knows that her affection is
unreturned, unappreciated. For his sake she would sacrifice her own
happiness, her own prosperity. Women are foolish creatures, Mr.
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