“Oh, mamma,” wailed the girl.
It was the cry of a little child that is soon quieted.
“Why are you crying, Jeanne?” asked her mother.
“I keep thinking of Margaret’s troubles while I’m dancing,” she explained.
Mrs. Sassenay breathed more freely. She knew how fond her daughter was of Margaret Roquevillard. But as the sobs did not stop she asked gently:
“Are you thinking of Lieutenant Hubert?”
“Yes. He was nice ... we used to play tennis together. He was always the best player.”
The cause of the girl’s grief did not lie in that quarter.
“Poor Margaret!” she added, changing her subject half unconsciously. “I liked Maurice, who is in prison, better than Hubert. He’ll be acquitted, won’t he?”
“I hope so, dear.”