"And you spent it, dearest child?"
"Yes, it just melted away. You know how money goes. But I shall pay it back some day."
"How will you get the money?"
"I don't know," she said, with a sigh. "I shall try to earn it."
"You may earn it now, in the quarter of a minute," he said, fatuously.
"And you call yourself an honest man—you talk against bribery and corruption, you doubt poor lonely orphans when they are going to confess little peccadilloes, and fancy in your wicked heart that they have committed some awful sin!" said Bidiane, in low, withering tones. "I think you had better go home, sir."
They had arrived in front of the inn, and, although Agapit knew that she ought to go at once and put off her wet shoes, he still lingered, and said, delightedly, in low, cautious tones, "But, Bidiane, you have surely a little affection for me—and one short kiss—very short—certainly it would not be so wicked."
"If you do not love a man, it is a crime to embrace him," she said, with cold severity.
"Then I look forward to more gracious times," he replied. "Good night, little one, in twenty minutes I must be in Belliveau's Cove."
Bidiane, strangely subdued in appearance, stood watching him as, with eyes riveted on her, he extended a grasping hand towards Turenne's hanging bridle. When he caught it he leaped into the saddle, and Bidiane, supposing herself to be rid of him, mischievously blew him a kiss from the tips of her fingers.