It was a dark, handsome, clear-cut face
which confronted Milverton, a face with a curved nose, strong,
dark eyebrows shading hard, glittering eyes, and a straight,
thin-lipped mouth set in a dangerous smile.
"It is I," she said; "the woman whose life you have ruined."
Milverton laughed, but fear vibrated in his voice. "You were
so very obstinate," said he. "Why did you drive me to such
extremities? I assure you I wouldn't hurt a fly of my own
accord, but every man has his business, and what was I to do?
I put the price well within your means. You would not pay."
"So you sent the letters to my husband, and he -- the noblest
gentleman that ever lived, a man whose boots I was never worthy
to lace -- he broke his gallant heart and died. You remember
that last night when I came through that door I begged and
prayed you for mercy, and you laughed in my face as you are
trying to laugh now, only your coward heart cannot keep your
lips from twitching? Yes, you never thought to see me here
again, but it was that night which taught me how I could meet
you face to face, and alone. Well, Charles Milverton, what have
you to say?"
"Don't imagine that you can bully me," said he, rising to
his feet.
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