"Jesse Devereaux! Was he handsome as a picture, with big, rolling, black eyes? Yes? Why, my pretty dear, you must not set your heart on him. He is one of the young millionaires up on Commonwealth Avenue, the swellest young man in Boston. He would never stoop to a poor working girl."
She saw the beautiful color fade from the girl's rosy cheek, and her bosom heaved with emotion as she faltered:
"He was very kind to me at Stonecliff!"
Mrs. Brinkley knew the world so well that she took instant alarm, exclaiming warningly:
"Don't you set any store by his kindness, child. No good comes of rich young men showing attentions to pretty working girls. If you have followed him here through a fancy for his handsome face, then you had better go home to-night."
Eagerly, blushingly, Liane disclaimed such a purpose, saying granny had brought her to see a relative.
"I—I only thought I might see his face in some of the crowded streets," she faltered.
"It is better for you never to see his face again, for it's plain to be seen he has stolen your heart," chided the widow. "Come, I'll show you his grand home, and then you may understand better how much he is above you, and how useless it is to hope to catch him."
Liane's cheeks burned at the chidings of the good woman, and tears leaped to her eyes, but she did not refuse the proffer of seeing Devereaux's home. She thought eagerly: