"
She turned her back to the easy chair, and opened the pink bag. As the
woman talked on, she secretly counted out the money. There were more
than ten thousand francs in mille notes and others of smaller
denominations. Quietly she put them away in the top of a travelling box,
which she locked. Then she noticed the letter which the child had given
her, still lying on the dressing table, with her gloves.
"Here's something from _la belle Americaine_, upstairs," said she. "A
_billet doux_."
"A dun," exclaimed the woman.
"No doubt. It can be nothing else."
"Well, we can't pay."
"No, we can't pay," said the girl, looking at the locked box.
"Let me see, how much was it she lent?"
"Two hundred francs, I think. We told her we'd give it back in a week.
That's nearly a month ago."
"Serve her right for trusting strangers. The saints alone know when
she'll see her money again. She shouldn't be so soft hearted. It
doesn't pay in these days."
"Neither do we--when we can help it."
They both laughed.
"But when you are Madame--let me see, what was the name of the young
monsieur, they told you at the Ritz?"
"Egerton.
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