"Poverty is almost a crime in the eyes of the rich—is it not?" asked her mistress thoughtfully.
"Yes," Clarice answered, almost tartly, and she began to hum under her breath:
"'Dollars and dimes, dollars and dimes,
An empty pocket is the worst of crimes!'"
Her young mistress remained gazing thoughtfully from the window, the sad expression of her face hidden by the falling waves of her golden hair. Deep, heavy sighs breathed at intervals over her lips.
Several days passed quietly without anything occurring to frighten our masquerading heroine again. The Le Roys gave no sign of their surprise at anything that occurred. They had, in fact, concluded that a great deal of her oddness and originality arose from the fact of the lover in the case. When she looked sad, as she often did, they concluded she was thinking of him. When St. Leon actually came upon her weeping silently one day he thought it was on account of the separation from our hero.
It vexed him. He did not go away and leave her alone, as his mother would have done. He said to her, sarcastically:
"Are you crying for your mamma, little girl?"
Beatrix flashed him a swift, angry look through her tears, and answered:
"No!"
"At least she has the grace to be honest," he said to himself.