Once he ventured a remark about how it happened that a woman of her rank and fortune and accomplishments should be teaching in a mining camp.
"My rank? My fortune? My accomplishments?" she repeated, mystified.
"Yes," he said, patronizingly, "a lady of rank and fortune. I have met several Americans of fortune,—great fortune,—in London and Paris—ah—I—"
"But I am not a woman of rank and fortune, Lord Kelwin. I am just a plain working woman."
He did not observe the amused smile about her eyes and mouth. "You are not likely to find women of rank and fortune in a mining camp."
"It's wonderful how much these American heiresses think of titles, don't you know, Miss Bright. Why, a man of rank can marry almost any American girl he pleases."
"Just so," she assented. "He wins a fortune to pay his debts, and squander otherwise; and she wins a title, dragged into the dust by a degenerate nobleman, plus enough unhappiness to make her miserable the rest of her life. An interesting business proposition, truly!"
"Why, really, Miss Bright,—ah—I—ah—I fear you grow sarcastic."
"Really! Did you discern any approach to sarcasm in my remarks? I am surprised!"
He was not prepared for the mockery in her voice, nor for something about her that made him feel that she was his superior. Before he could formulate a suitable reply, one quite in accord with his sentiments and feelings, she continued: