She bowed her head slightly, lowering her eyes before mine.  My earnestness, my apparent education, were clearly a surprise.

“Yes,” she confessed reluctantly enough.  “I—­I believe I can.  There was a time when I could not, but I can now.”

“Then yield me the benefit of such charity of judgment,” I went on.  “At least do not altogether condemn me on mere circumstantial evidence, and before you learn what has led up to the events of the night.  At least give me opportunity to exhibit my gratitude.”

She remained silent, motionless.

“Why not?  Is it because you have no confidence in me?” I insisted.

She put out one hand, grasping the iron rail of a fence, and I thought I could see her form tremble.

“Oh, no! it—­it is not that exactly,” she explained brokenly.  “I believe I—–­I might trust you, but—­but of course I do not know.  I think you—­you mean well; your words sound honest, and your—­your face inspires confidence.  Only I have found so much deceit, so much cruelty and heartlessness in the world I have become afraid of everyone.  But I—­I simply cannot let you go with me—­oh! please don’t urge it!”

I leaned forward, my face full of sympathy, my voice low and earnest.

“And do you suppose I will consent to desert you after that confession?” I questioned, almost indignant.  “I would be a brute to do so.  You saved me from arrest just now; for me to have been taken to the station house and searched would have put me in a bad hole.  It was your wit that saved me, and now I am going to stay and help you.  I ’ll not leave you alone here in the street at this hour of the night.”

She looked at me, her eyes wide open, shining like stars, her face picturing perplexity, not unmixed with fear, one hand yet gripping the supporting rail, the other pressed against her forehead.

“Oh, but you must! indeed, you must!” the words scarcely more than sobs.  “I—­I have no place to go!”

CHAPTER V

BEGINNING ACQUAINTANCE

I drew in my breath sharply, my lips set in a straight line.  Already had I half-suspicioned this truth, and yet there was that about the girl—­her manner, her words, even her dress—­which would not permit me to class her among the homeless, the city outcasts.

“You mean that you are actually upon the streets, with—­with no place to go?”

She did not answer, her head bowed, her face suddenly showing white and haggard.  I stared at her with swift realization.

“My God, girl! and—­and I actually believe you are hungry!”

Her eyes uplifted to my face dumb with agony, her hand grasp upon the rail tightening.  Then she pitifully endeavored to smile.

“I—­I am afraid I am, just a little.”  She acknowledged slowly, as though the words were wrung out of her.

I straightened up, with shoulders flung back.  All that was strong, determined in my nature, came leaping to the surface.  It was my time to act.