“The child who danced?”
The girl assented, and Vane looked thoughtful.
“The three of you stick together,” he suggested.
“Of course. Mrs. Marvin’s the only friend I have.”
“Then I suppose you’ve no idea what to do?”
His companion confessed it, and explained that it was the cause of her distress and that they had had bad luck of late. Vane could understand that as he looked at her; her dress was shabby, and he fancied she had not been bountifully fed.
“If you stayed here a few days, you could go out with the next stage, and get on to Victoria with the cars,” he said. He paused and continued diffidently: “It could be arranged with the hotel-keeper.”
She laughed in a half-hysterical manner, and he remembered that fares were high in the country.
“I suppose you have no money,” he added, with blunt directness. “I want you to tell Mrs. Marvin that I’ll lend her enough to take you all to Victoria.”
Her face crimsoned, which was not quite what he had expected, and he suddenly felt embarrassed.