"Goodbye, Mademoiselle."
She must have read mortification in my face, for she turned after a step or two, and said more kindly.
"You're not responsible, anyway." Then she paused, as if hesitating, while I stood hat in hand, as I had done during our conversation.
"I wonder if I can trust you."
She took her purse from the bag hanging at her waist and drew out a gold piece.
"I will give you this if you promise not to tell your Master that you have spoken to me this afternoon."
I shrank back. Remember I had been for three years in the hourly companionship of a man of lofty soul for all his waywardness, and he had modelled me like wax to his liking. The gold piece was tempting. I had never owned a gold piece in my life—and all the frost had melted from Joanna's eyes. But I felt I should be dishonored in taking money.
"I promise without that," I said.
She put the coin back in her purse and held out her delicately gloved hand.
"Promise with this, then," she said.