“What?”
“The terrible New England conscience?”
“Right is right and wrong is wrong, Mr. Archibald, disguise it how we may,” and Elvira compressed her pretty lips firmly.
Archibald puffed on his cigar, lazily.
“I wasn’t sure,” he said, as if a doubt had crept into his mind.
She glanced at him impatiently.
“Can’t you see how wrong it would be for us to stay here and enjoy all we have in your beautiful house, knowing that we were swindling you?” She stamped her foot. “Mercy!” she added, half to herself, “what can you be made of?”
He hastened to a display of rugged conscience, which relieved her.
“Oh, of course, I see how wicked it would be if you did swindle; but I’m making money! Really—I haven’t spent the twenty dollars board-money yet. Oh, pray rest assured—I shan’t lose. I will tell you when I run behind.”
A great sense of relief seemed to come over the girl.