"
"I should think so," said Mrs. Hopkinson with a mischievous look.
"Ah, you know her, then?"
"Not so well as I know him," said Mrs. H. quite seriously. "I wish I
did."
"Well, you'll find out if she's to be trusted! You are laughing,--it is
a serious matter! This woman--"
Mrs. Hopkinson dropped him a charming courtesy and said,
"C'est moi!"
CHAPTER XII
A RACE FOR IT
Royal Thatcher worked hard. That the boyish little painter who shared
his hospitality at the "Blue Mass" mine should afterward have little
part in his active life seemed not inconsistent with his habits. At
present the mine was his only mistress, claiming his entire time,
exasperating him with fickleness, but still requiring that supreme
devotion of which his nature was capable. It is possible that Miss
Carmen saw this too, and so set about with feminine tact, if not to
supplement, at least to make her rival less pertinacious and absorbing.
Apart from this object, she zealously labored in her profession, yet
with small pecuniary result, I fear.
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