"There," she said, pinching Wiles mischievously, "there! that's the
woman you were afraid of. Look at her. Look at that dress. Ah, Heavens!
look at that shawl. Didn't I tell you she had no style?"
"Who is she?" said Wiles sullenly.
"Carmen de Haro, of course," said the lady vivaciously. "What are you
hurrying away so for? You're absolutely pulling me along."
Mr. Wiles had just caught sight of the travel-worn face of Royal
Thatcher among the crowd that thronged the stair-case. Thatcher appeared
pale and distrait: Mr. Harlowe, his counsel, at his side, rallied him.
"No one would think you had just got a new lease of your property, and
escaped a great swindle. What's the matter with you? Miss De Haro
passed us just now. It was she who spoke to the Senator. Why did you not
recognize her?"
"I was thinking," said Thatcher gloomily.
"Well, you take things coolly! And certainly you are not very
demonstrative towards the woman who saved you to-day. For, as sure as
you live, it was she who drew that speech out of the Senator.
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