Thank
God, she don't show that she's got your blood in 'er veins."
"Here! Do you mean to insinuate that she's not _mine_?" gasped
Braddock, suddenly a-tremble. Much as he trusted to the virtue of his
wife, he was never able to comprehend the miracle that gave him
Christine for a daughter. There was no trace of him to be seen in her.
"You know better than that," said the clown coldly.
"Well," said Braddock, nervously shifting his cigar and lowering his
gaze. If he had intended to say more, he changed his mind and walked
off toward the center of the tent where men were throwing up a
circular bank about the ring.
"He's a drunken dog," said the clown, glaring after him. "She's the
finest woman in the world. And to think of 'er bein' the wife of that
bounder."
David had been thinking of it and puzzling his tired brain for hours.
"How did she happen to marry--"
"No time for that now," said Grinaldi briskly. "Mebby I'll tell you
about her some other time, not now. You'd better keep away from her
and Christine for a couple of days. Brad will forget it in no time,
'specially if he thinks he can scrape some more o' that money out of
you.
Pages:
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105