Not that she regretted that she had connived in the
escape of Bridge; but it was humiliating that a girl of her
position should have been compelled to play so melodramatic
a part before Grayson and his Mexican vaqueros.
Then, too, was she disappointed in Bridge. She had looked
upon him as a gentleman whom misfortune and wanderlust
had reduced to the lowest stratum of society. Now she feared
that he belonged to that substratum which lies below the
lowest which society recognizes as a part of itself, and which is
composed solely of the criminal class.
It was hard for Barbara to realize that she had associated
with a thief--just for a moment it was hard, until recollection
forced upon her the unwelcome fact of the status of another
whom she had known--to whom she had given her love. The
girl did not wince at the thought--instead she squared her
shoulders and raised her chin.
"I am proud of him, whatever he may have been," she
murmured; but she was not thinking of the new bookkeeper.
When she did think again of Bridge it was to be glad that he
had escaped--"for he is an American, like myself."
"Well!" exclaimed a voice behind her. "You played us a
pretty trick, Miss Barbara."
The girl turned to see Grayson approaching.
Pages:
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435