Martin Conisby's Vengeance
"You go now to your woman--your light of love--yes?"
"There is no woman but yourself," said I, frowning.
"Liar! Then what of this?" and she pointed slender finger; then I saw that tattered garment lying where I had dropped it and this woman spurning it with her foot. So I stooped forthwith, and snatching it from her desecrating touch, folded it across my arm, whereat she fell to sudden laughter very ill to bear.
"Ah--ah!" said she, softer than before and most hatefully a-smiling, "'tis for her sake your chin goeth bare and smooth--yes? She is over-nice in the matter of--"
"I tell you she is gone!" said I in fury.
"Gone--gone, is she? And you alone here, longing but for her return, through weeks and months and years waiting for her to come back to you; is not this the truth of it, yes?" Now I, knowing this for very truth, cou