“I’m sorry, Mr. McCreedy,” she said, “but we must really get back.”
McCreedy knew, from her tone of voice, that there was no appeal. He must content himself with the favor that had been granted him. In the seclusion of his room, later, he relived his happy day. He would see her again to-morrow. Sufficient for the day was this joy thereof. After all, the ice had been broken and some day he might get the opportunity to take her out alone—without that dragon of her friend. Poor fellow! What dreams he permitted himself! In the hour or two before retiring he had become so rich that he was sailing in his own yacht with Helène, happy and radiant, by his side on the deck. And when he slept he dreamed of a magnificent home with splendid salons through which Helène “walked in beauty like the night,” and he by her side.
Margaret had long suspected McCreedy’s state of heart, and had taken care to keep him from Helène as much as possible during the day. As she sat now, with Helène, in their sitting-room, she looked at the girl for a sign of resentment at her manoeuvres. But she saw nothing but the evidences of the happy time she had had.
“What do you think of Mr. McCreedy?” she asked suddenly.
“He’s very nice. He was so kind and attentive, wasn’t he? I hope he didn’t spend more than he could afford.” Margaret smiled. Her lessons in economy had borne fruit in Helène’s mind.
“Oh, I guess he wouldn’t do that.”
“No, perhaps not.”
Helène spoke the last words listlessly. The reference to money sent her mind reflecting on her own life. She was so anxious to save as much money as she could spare. If Mr. Morton should come, she would then be in a position to pay him back all that he had spent on her. And autumn would soon be here, when she must fulfill her promise to write to him. What would he say when he saw her again? Ah—but would he come? Cleveland—eight hundred miles away—did people ever travel that long distance to come to New York? And if he came, he surely would approve!
“Why, honey, you’re not listening to me. I declare you’ve been in a trance for the last five minutes.” Margaret assumed an offended air. Helène started and blushed.
“Now come, what were you thinking of? I have an idea there’s a Count or a Prince buzzing in your little head.”