Arnold frowned, and looked up at the sky-signs upon the other side of the river.

“I, too, wish he were different, dear,” he said.  “He certainly is a dangerous protector for you.”

“He is the only one I have,” the girl replied, with a sigh, “and sometimes, when he remembers, he is so kind.  But that is not often now.”

“What do you do when he is away for all this time?” Arnold asked quickly.  “Are you properly looked after?  You ought to have some one here.”

“Mrs. Sands comes twice a day, always,” she declared.  “It is not myself I trouble about, really.  Isaac is good in that way.  He pays Mrs. Sands always in advance.  He tries even to buy wine for me, and he often brings me home fruit.  When he has money, I am sure that he gives it to me.  It isn’t that so much, Arnold, but I get frightened of his getting into trouble.  Now that room of his has got on my nerves.  When I hear that tap, tap, in the night, I am terrified.”

“Will you let me speak to him about it, Ruth?”

Her face was suddenly full of terror.

“Arnie, you mustn’t think of it,” she begged.  “He would never forgive me—­never.  The first time I asked him what was going on there, I thought that he would have struck me.”

“Would you like me to go in and see next time he is out?”

She shivered.

“Not for the world,” she replied.  “Besides, you couldn’t.  He has fixed on a Yale lock himself.  No one could open the door.”

“You have never seen what he prints?”

“Never,” she replied.  “He knows that I hate the sight of those pamphlets.  He never shows them to me.  He had a man to see him the other night—­the strangest-looking man I ever saw—­and they talked in whispers for hours.  I saw the man’s face when he went out.  It was white and evil.  And, Arnold, it was the face of a man steeped in sin to the lips.  I wish I hadn’t seen it,” she went on, drearily.  “It haunts me.”

He did his best to reassure her.

“Little Ruth,” he said, “you have been up here too long without a holiday.  Wait till Saturday afternoon, when I draw my new salary for the first time.  I shall hire a taxicab.  We will have it open and drive out into the country.”

Her face lit up for a moment.  Her beautiful eyes were soft, although a few seconds later they were swimming with tears.

“Do you think you will want to go when Saturday afternoon comes?” she asked.  “Don’t you think, perhaps, that your new friends may invite you to go and see them?  I am so jealous of your new friends, Arnold.”

He drew her a little closer to him.  There was something very pathetic in her complete dependence upon him, a few months ago a stranger.  They had both been waifs, brought together by a wave of common adversity.  Her intense weakness had made the same appeal to him as his youth and strength to her.  There was almost a lump in his throat as he answered her.