"She seems to be a woman of wealth?"
"Evidently; her horses are very fine animals, and her carriage a costly one. Her servants wear a neat, plain livery, and apparently her house is elegantly furnished."
"And mamma," said Robbie, who had been standing quietly at her side, "you forget the flowers."
"True, Robbie. Every day, Claire, the florist leaves a basket of white flowers at her door."
"I like that," asserted Claire. "She must have refinement."
"She certainly has that air."
"Well," said Claire, laughing lightly, "I shall make a study of the woman across the way."
With that the subject dropped for the time. But as the days went on, and she settled herself once more into the home routine, Claire found that not the least among the things she chose to consider interesting was the mysterious neighbor across the way.
And now, having put considerable distance between herself and Edward Percy, she wrote him a few cool lines of dismissal.
And here again the individuality of the girl was very manifest. Many a woman would have written a scathing letter, telling the man how thoroughly unmasked he stood in her sight, letting him know that she was acquainted with all his past and his present, and bidding him make the most of the infatuation of the last victim to his empty pockets, the ancient Miss Arthur.