"You do, don't you?"
"What?"
"You do give a piastre for what I——"
"I'm afraid I do. I'm afraid I give a good many piastres for what everyone thinks." The girl's smile had suddenly faded; her eyes lowered and sought the far horizons.
In the silence he came a little closer to her. "Then Arlee—Arlee, dear——"
She started, and turned hurriedly. "We must go down——"
"Why must we?"
"They'll be waiting."
"Let 'em. They'll be glad of the chance if they can get away from Emma.... I want to talk to you."
"I think Mr. Hill is quite as nice as Lady Claire," flashed Arlee in a childish voice.