"
"I am your Caliban, but would hint, my amiable Coz, that you should
not bite off your own pretty nose in spite. Must all your kin join
in this bitter feud? May I not smoke with my ancient familiar?"
"Oh, be off, and if you and your friend disappear like your cigars,
the world will survive."
"I fear it is because my friend will never dissolve in sighs that
you are so willing he should end in smoke."
Having winged this Parthian arrow over his shoulder, Stanton strolled
out on the piazza whither Van Berg had preceded him.
Chapter V. Spite.
Miss Mayhew apparently had not given a single glance to the artist,
as he sat opposite to her and but a little out of earshot. Indeed,
so well did she simulate unconsciousness of his presence, that
were if not for an occasional glance from Mrs. Mayhew he might have
thought himself unnoticed; but something in that lady's manner, as
caught by occasional glances, led him to suspect that he was the
subject of their conversation.
But Ida's indifference was, in truth, only seeming; for although
she never looked directly at him, she subjected his image, which
was constantly flitting across the retina of her eye, to the closest
scrutiny, and no act or expression of his escaped her.
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