Madelaine laughed as the awkward youth slouched out into the court:
“That dirty fool Hiéne wants to be my lover,” she said—“he pesters me—but I am not going to love workmen—I am going to be driven in carriages.”
“Hush, Madelaine—you must not say such things.”
Madelaine gave her good-night, laughter in her eyes, and with the grace of coming womanhood took herself off airily towards the city’s lights—a promise of lithe beauty in her walk for all her bedraggled rags.
Moll Davenant had heard Betty’s light step upon the stair; she opened the door for her to enter as Betty reached the landing. When she had shut it, the two girls embraced each other.
“Come, Moll—and sit on the bed; and we’ll gossip.”
Moll suffered herself to be led to the sommier, and they sat down upon the snowy whiteness of it.
Moll was watching Betty’s face hungrily.
“Moll,” said Betty—“I have been to look for Eustace Lovegood—ah, such a mean shabby little hotel it was, poor fellow! but he was gone. The waiter said he went back to England yesterday—after waiting restlessly about the place for a letter that did not come.... I wish Eustace would spend a little money on himself instead of giving it to every pitiful person that cries out to him.”
Moll was seized with a violent fit of coughing.