At such times women do not pause to give fair play.

They make no allowance.
Jocelyn Gordon found a sort of fearful joy in the anger of this self-contained Englishman.

It was an unfathomed mine of possible punishment over which she could in thought hold Victor Durnovo.
"Nothing," she went on, "could be too mean--nothing could be mean enough--to mete out to him in payment of his own treachery and cowardice." She went to a drawer in her writing-table and took from it an almanac.
"The letter you have in your hand," she said, "was handed to Mr.Durnovo exactly a month ago by the woman at Msala.

From that time to this he has done nothing.

He has simply abandoned Mr.Meredith." "He is in Loango ?" inquired Oscard, with a premonitory sense of enjoyment in his voice.
"Yes." "Does he know that you have sent for me ?" "No," replied Jocelyn.
Guy Oscard smiled.
"I think I will go and look for him," he said.
At dusk that same evening there was a singular incident in the bar-room of the only hotel in Loango.
Victor Durnovo was there, surrounded by a few friends of antecedents and blood similar to his own.