Jennie told me the--the white woman looked up to you this fashion," and the languishing look she gave John in imitation of Queen Mary was so beautiful and comical that he could do nothing but laugh and cover her face with kisses, then laugh again and love the girl more deeply and yet more deeply with each new breath he drew.

Dorothy was not sure whether she wanted to laugh or to cry, so she did both.
"Jennie told me in the middle of the night," continued Dorothy, "when all things seem so vivid and appear so distorted and--and that terrible blinding jealousy of which I told you came upon me and drove me mad.

I really thought, John, that I should die of the agony.

Oh, John, if you could know the anguish I suffered that night you would pity me; you would not blame me." "I do not blame you, Dorothy." "No, no, there-" she kissed him softly, and quickly continued: "I felt that I must separate her from you at all cost.

I would have done murder to accomplish my purpose.