Roma, in her rich gown and sparkling rubies, heard the question, and bit her lips till the blood almost started.
"It is only one of the dressmaker's sewing girls!" she said haughtily, and started across the room to her mother, who had paused to speak to Jesse Devereaux.
He had just entered, looking pale and superbly handsome; but with his right arm in a sling, and the lady, for Roma's sake, resolved to forget her resentment and try to propitiate him.
"I am afraid I was too hasty that morning," she said gently. "Will you forgive me and be friends again, Jesse?"
"Gladly," he replied, for he valued her good opinion, little as he cared for her proud, overbearing daughter.
The next moment Roma, coming up to them, heard her mother exclaim, to her infinite chagrin:
"Tell me, Jesse, who is that perfectly lovely girl in the white gown with the pink roses at her waist?"
Jesse looked quickly, and saw Liane again for the first time since that eventful evening on the beach, when he had saved her from insult and injury. His heart gave a strangling throb of joy and love, mingled with pride in her peerless loveliness.
"You are right. She is peerless," he answered, in a deep voice, freighted with emotion. "Her name is Liane Lester."
"Impossible!" almost shrieked the lady in her surprise; but at that moment Roma confronted them, her proud face pale, her eyes gleaming, murmuring: