to Derby Haven, like the dear girl that you are. And when this storm blows over—and it will soon be past—then all shall be made right. Yes, it shall, believe me."
There was no answer. Christian continued.
"Go at once, my girl. Here," (diving into his pockets), "I've precious little money left, God help me, but here's enough to pay your way, and something to spare."
He offered a purse in his palm. The girl tossed up his hand with a disdainful gesture.
"It's not money I want from you," she said. Christian looked at her for a moment with blank amazement. She caught the expression, and answered it with a haughty curl of the lip. The sneer died off her face on the instant, and the tears began to gather in her eyes.
"It's not love a girl wants, then?" she said struggling to curl her lip again. "It's not love, then, that a girl like me can want," she said.
She had stopped the loom and covered up her face in her hands.
"No, no," she added, with a stifled sob, "love is for ladies—fine ladies in silks and satins—pure—virtuous.... Christian," she exclaimed, dropping her hands and looking into his face with indignant eyes, "I suppose there's a sort of woman that wants nothing of a man but money, is there?"
Christian's lips were livid. "That's not what I meant, Mona, believe me," he said.
The loom was still. The sweet serenity of the air left hardly a sense of motion.
"You talk of your father, too," the girl continued,
