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 VIII

Vermont nodded, but he never shifted his glance from the scowling, sneering face before him. Believing an attack to be imminent, he prepared to meet it. Indeed, the hope was surging wildly in him that Brenton would precipitate a quarrel. His mood was such that he would willingly have wiped off some of the debt that Andromeda owed.

“T tell you she’s not worth it,” repeated Brenton savagely, “and if it were not for the sake of my own good name I should let her go to the devil with all the pleasure in life. The woman has been a curse to me, a curse to all with whom she has come in contact. Such women are born to be the plague and horror of a man’s life. They are like a deadly blight or miasma that destroys all green and good things; there is nothing for them but annihilation, a swift blotting out, utter and infinite extinction. Good God! man, would you nourish