There was no answer, save the heartrending sobs of the girl cowering before them in such abject misery—surely the most pitiful a human heart ever knew.
"You see she can not deny it," cried the ringleader, turning triumphantly to her companions. "I assured you all that I was certain before I advised this step. We may well look upon her with scorn; she is not worthy to breathe the same air with us!"
Ida May rose slowly to her feet.
[CHAPTER XVII.]
Half fainting with grief and pain, Ida May rushed out into the street.
The sun was shining bright and warm, but it seemed to the girl that the whole earth was dark and gloomy.
Where should she go? Which way should she turn? She would not go back to the little lodging-house for her few belongings; she never wanted to see it again. Let them do what they would with her few belongings. The few dollars that were hers, she happened to have in the pocket of her dress.
"Royal!" she murmured, "I can not go to you in this hour of my deepest woe!"