'Will Madame stay to dinner with you, Bebe?' he asked.
Kitty nodded.
'She always does,' she answered; 'you will come too.'
Vandeloup shook his head.
'I am going down to Ballarat to the Wattle Tree Hotel to see my
friend Pierre,' he said, in a preoccupied manner, 'and will have
something to eat there. Then I will come up again about eight
o'clock, in time to see Madame off.'
'Aren't you going back with her?' asked Kitty, in surprise, as they
rose to their feet.
'No,' he replied, dusting his knees with his hand, 'I stay all night
in Ballarat, with Madame's kind permission, to see the theatre. Now,
good-bye at present, Bebe,' kissing her, 'I will be back at eight
o'clock, so you can excuse me to Madame till then.'
He ran gaily down the hill waving his hat, and Kitty stood looking
after him with pride in her heart. He was a lover any girl might
have been proud of, but Kitty would not have been so satisfied with
him had she known what his real thoughts were.
'Marry!' he said to himself, with a laugh, as he walked gaily along;
'hardly! When we get to Melbourne, my sweet Bebe, I will find some
way to keep you off that idea--and when we grow tired of one
another, we can separate without the trouble or expense of a
divorce.'
And this heartless, cynical man of the world was the keeper into
whose hands innocent Kitty was about to commit the whole of her
future life.
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