You, so old and--"
"Old!" shrieked Maraquito, snatching off her hat and cap. "I
am young and much more beautiful than you. Look at my hair."
It came streaming down in a glorious mass on her shoulders.
"My face is as beautiful as yours. I disguised myself to see
you. I hate you!--I loathe you! I forbid you to marry
Cuthbert."
"How dare you--how dare--"
"I dare all things--even this." Maraquito raised her arm,
and in her hand Caranby saw a small bottle she had taken out
of the bag. "What will Cuthbert say to your beauty now?"
She flung the bottle straight at Juliet. It would have struck
her in the face, but Caranby, throwing himself between the
two, received it fair on his cheek. It smashed, and he
uttered a cry. "Vitriol! Vitriol!" he shrieked, his hands to
his face, and fell prone on the hearth-rug. His head struck
against the bars of the grate, and a spurt of flame caught his
hair. Juliet seized him and dragged him away, calling loudly
for help.
"You devil--you devil!" cried Maraquito, striking the girl
on the face. "I dare not stay now. But I'll spoil your
beauty yet. Wait--wait!"
She hastily put on her hat and ran out of the room. The
servant of Lord Caranby burst into the room, followed by some
waiters. "Send for the doctor," cried Juliet, trying to raise
Caranby--"and that woman-"
"She has left the hotel," said a waiter, but at this moment
there was a loud shout in the street, followed by a shriek and
a crash.
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