"Dollars!" said Hetty. "And gold-dust! Is there nothing else worth having?"
"Well," said Leger drily, "when you have no prospect of getting it, it's as well to content oneself with dollars. If I remember rightly you used to think a good deal of a shilling in England."
Hetty glanced at him sharply with hazy eyes. "What do you mean by—no prospect of getting it?"
"I don't quite know. You suggested the notion. Anyway, I scarcely think Esmond can make out very much of a case against us. He doesn't really know that Tomlinson was at the bakery."
"It isn't that that's worrying me. It's—everything," said Hetty.
"I don't think you need cry over Tomlinson. The boys will take care of him."
"I wasn't crying about Tomlinson. In fact, I'm not sure I was crying at all. Still, you see, it was all my fault."
Leger smiled whimsically. "Well," he said, "I scarcely think that should afford you any great satisfaction, though it almost seems to do so. No doubt it's part of a girl's nature to make trouble of the kind."
Hetty closed one hand. "I'm going to be angry in a minute. That's not the way to talk to any one who's feeling—what I am just now."
Leger rose and patted her shoulder. "I'd sooner see you raging than looking as you do. Shake the mood off, Hetty. It isn't in the least like you."