"I'm coming down to Bostin to see the sites, and buy a red silk gown. I've always been crazy for one."
She was here, she had the red silk gown she craved, and idle curiosity had led her to pass his house, perhaps boasting to her companion, meanwhile, that she had flirted with the owner and refused his hand.
A deep crimson rose to his brow, and his heart almost stopped its beating with wounded love and pride. Just glancing at Liane with cold, indifferent eyes, he lifted his hat, bowed stiffly, and passed her by in scorn.
The girl, who had almost stopped to speak to him, gave a sigh that was almost a sob, and dropped her eyes, moving on by Mrs. Brinkley's side with a sinking heart.
"That was he, Jesse Devereaux himself," whispered the latter excitedly. "My, what a cold, haughty stare and bow; enough to freeze you. You see how 'tis, my dear? When city folks visit the country they're mighty gracious, but when country folks come to the city, they don't hardly recognize 'em."
Liane's pale smile at Mrs. Brinkley's observation was sadder than the wildest outburst of tears.
"I see that you are right," she answered, with gentle humility that touched her new friend's heart, and made her exclaim:
"Don't never give him another thought, honey. He ain't worth it. You're sweet enough and pretty enough to marry the proudest in the land, but nothing don't count now but money."
They hurried home to the poor lodgings, so different from the splendid locality they had just left, and found granny just returned from her search and in rather a good humor from the day's outing.