Aloud he said cynically:
"I thought you were too proud, Lyde, to notice a pretty salesgirl."
"Oh, Jesse, I like to be kind to them all, poor things! And they appreciate a kind word and smile more than you might think. And many of these girls are so very pretty, too, that really, if I were looking for beauty, I believe I should seek it among the working girls in our stores. This Liane Lester, too, is lovelier than all the rest, and her voice so soft and sweet that, really, I am sure she must be a reduced aristocrat."
He wondered if he dare tell her the truth about Liane, the story of his love. Smilingly he said:
"You will have me falling in love with your pretty glove girl."
"Oh, not for the world!" she cried, in dismay. "My dear Jesse, never think of loving and marrying out of your own set. One can admire beauty in a poor girl as one admires beauty in a statue, but, lifted above her station, my pretty Liane would not be half so admirable."
"Of course not," he replied cynically, and decided not to make her his confidante.
All the same, he determined to see for himself again the lovely face that had won Lyde's admiration. He knew where she bought her gloves, and that afternoon he was close by when the little army of salesgirls came pouring out into the street.
By and by came two arm in arm, Lizzie White and Liane, and his eyes feasted again on the lovely face beneath the little blue hat, noting with gladness its purity of expression.