It is for vengeance I go to the Harleys', my San Reve, not love.

I sit at their table, I eat their food, I drink their wine; and I laugh and I gloat over them--these little people! Yes, my San Reve, the hand of the coward Harley shakes as he lifts his glass; the fair, proud Dorothy shows me my triumph in her whitened cheek and frightened eye.

And best of all, the empty chatter of the magpie Mrs.Hanway-Harley--who knows nothing, being a fool! It is that magpie chatter to be poison in the ears of the others! Oh, you should behold them, my San Reve! You should witness how they writhe and how they tremble in the presence of your Storri!" The San Reve listened, but the gloom hung low on her brow.

She did not believe her Storri who said he ate a weekly dinner for revenge.

Yes, he had obtained a mastery over Mr.Harley; he had forced his way into the company of Dorothy and shut the door on Richard! The San Reve shook her jealous head; that was not vengeance, that was love.
And Storri would succeed, too! This Dorothy would come to love him as she, the San Reve, loved.