any other man, absurd! and you know it is absurd!"
The aversion all vanished from Pompeia's handsome, domineering countenance. She gazed at her beautiful sister-in-law with a sort of impersonal fascinated interest.
"Really Mucia," she asked, in a tone entirely inoffensive, wholly disarming, "do you truly care nothing for Clodius? Do you believe in your heart you care nothing for him and everything for Pompey?"
"Truthfully," said Mucia simply, "I do."
"And do you really believe that Clodius is Pompey's friend, showing you attentions for your husband's sake only?"
"I genuinely do," Mucia affirmed sincerely.
"I feel, somehow," Pompeia admitted, with an expression of wonderment, "that you are telling the truth."
"You could scarcely," Mucia proudly said, "feel anything else."
Pompeia's dark face suddenly flushed and her eyes blazed.
"You dolt," she exploded, "almost anyone would believe the exact reverse. And I believe you against my will and against my wish. I have never liked you, as you well know, and as I have never concealed. I began by seeing you frivolous and light-headed, I went on to think
