The woman roused up and tried to appear composed.
“Will you ride with me to-morrow?” continued Carmen. “Then we can talk all we want to, with nobody to overhear. Aren’t you happy?” she abruptly added, unable longer to withstand the appeal which issued mutely from the lusterless eyes before her.
The woman smiled wanly. “Not so very,” she replied slowly.
“Well!” exclaimed Carmen; “what’s wrong?”
“I am poverty-stricken,” returned the woman sadly.
“But I will give you money,” Carmen quickly replied.
“My dear child,” said the woman, “I haven’t anything but money. That is why I am poverty-stricken.”
“Oh!” the girl exclaimed, sinking into a chair at her side. “Well,” she added, brightening, “now you have me! And will you call me up, first thing in the morning, and arrange to ride with me? I want you to, so much!”
The woman’s eyes grew moist. “Yes,” she murmured, “I will––gladly.”
In the small hours of the morning there were several heads tossing in stubborn wakefulness on their pillows in various New York mansions. But Carmen’s was not one of them.