She knew well that Cecil Grant was as handsome and even more attractive than Harold Castello, but it suited her purpose to expatiate on the new-comer.
“If Violet were as fickle as some girls I have known, I should tremble for your chances, Cecil,” she continued, banteringly. “He is very fascinating, this man, and so rich, too. Of course that would count with many girls.”
“Not with my true-hearted Violet!” he cried, proudly.
She assented, carelessly saying:
“No, for Violet is very romantic, and fancies that love and poverty combined will be very charming. I wonder how she will find the reality.”
There was a hidden sneer in the words that he vaguely felt, and his cheek flushed as he said:
“It is very noble in Violet to be content with my poverty. But I feel that fortune will one day change for me, and then she shall have all the luxuries of life!”
“Will you drive with me a little way while I unfold my plans for the elopement?” she asked; and when he was seated by her side, driving along the sandy road, with the low murmur of the river in their ears, she continued:
“Violet and I talked it over a long time last night, and decided on a plan, if it meets your approval.”
He listened to her eagerly without speaking.