He is fond of
keeping his discoveries to himself. He wants all the glory."
"Surely he has had enough by this time, Maraquita. But the
scent--"
"You are quite right, I shall not use it for the future. But
what do you think of my disguise? Would anyone know me?"
"Certainly not. But I wonder you have the courage to show
yourself so disfigured to the woman who is your rival."
"Oh, as to that, she is my rival no longer," said Maraquito,
with a gesture of disdain, "your nephew is not worthy of me.
I surrender him from this moment."
"That is very wise of you. I expect you will go abroad and
marry a millionaire."
"I might. But I have plenty of money of my own."
"The way in which you made it is not creditable," said
Caranby.
"Bah!" she sneered. "I did not come here to hear you talk
morality, Lord Caranby. You were no saint in your young days.
I have heard all about you."
"From whom?"
"From my Aunt Emilia."
"I scarcely think that. You were but a child when she died."
"She did not die," said Maraquito coldly. "I have come to
tell you that she lived as Miss Loach at Rose Cottage."
Caranby started to his feet. "What is this you tell me?"
"The truth. Emilia is dead now, but she lived alone for many
a long day. I knew that Selina Loach was my aunt, and,"
Maraquito looked at him with piercing eyes, "Mrs. Octagon knew
also."
By this time Caranby had recovered from his emotion. "There
is nothing bad I don't expect to hear of Isabella Octagon," he
said, "so this then was why she visited you?"
"Yes.
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