She showed him, with
hands that trembled, the envelope with its queer inscription, and she
unfolded for his benefit the empty sheet of blank paper. She told her
story at once without any reservation, even relating with a little
hasty blush how she felt obliged to pay for the furniture herself.
Perhaps Arthur Noel was the only person in the world to whom she would
have made this confession; for she was one of those who made it a
practice never to let her right hand know what her left did, but she
had known Arthur from his boyhood, and he was one of those men who
inspire trust and sympathy at a glance.
He listened to the story with interest, and even excitement--he was
naturally enthusiastic, but even Miss Egerton had never seen him so
perturbed and so moved as he was at present.
"I know about those girls," he said at last; "what are their names?--I
am sure I know about them. Nay, let me ask you a question--Is not one
called Jasmine? Has she not a piquant face, and very soft and yet
bright eyes, and a great lot of curly brown hair? Yes, Miss Egerton, I
am sure the girls you speak of are in a certain sense _my_ girls; for
if they are the ones I mean I took them under my protection long ago.
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