Surpanakha did not refer to money but to luxury. Sita would always be ensconced in luxury, she had no doubt. The way the girl held herself and delivered her words - Surpanakha knew enough of subtle actions and mannerisms to derive that the girl had come of good breeding, crass as the term was. The forced courtesy, even now, when most girls her age would long have reverted to sarcasm or barbed insults, was another glaring indicator of Sita's relatively easy standing.
Turning away and relishing the snap of her heels as she began to leave, Surpanakha waved a dismissive hand. "Careful finding your fucking way back to the manger." She had nothing to say or nothing to do to Sita at the moment. (Excluding, of course, the matter of the smelly man in the corner she fully intended to send the girl's way.)