You flout him anew, and because of it.

He is as jealous with you as a hen with her brood." "Jealous ?" echoed Cynthia.
"Why, yes, jealous; and so far does he go as to be jealous even of me," he cried, with infinitely derisive relish.

"Think of it--he is jealous of me! Jealous of him they call the Tavern Knight!" She did think of it as he bade her.

And by thinking she stumbled upon a discovery that left her breathless.
Strange how we may bear a sentiment in our hearts without so much as suspecting its existence, until suddenly a chance word shall so urge it into life that it reveals itself with unmistakable distinctness.

With her the revelation began in a vague wonder at the scorn with which Crispin invested the notion that Kenneth should have cause for jealousy on his score.