“Yes,” she said.  “It is what I wish to know.”

“This expulsion resulted In a row at home,” I went on, disgusted at myself.  “And I took French leave.  For six months I knocked about, doing a little of everything, having rather a tough time, but too obstinate to confess my mistake and return.  Of course I naturally fell in with a hard set, and finally enlisted.  My regiment was sent to the Philippines, where we had some fighting.  I liked that, and was a good enough soldier to be promoted to a sergeantcy.  I reckon I had better have remained in the service, for when I was sent back to Frisco, because of wounds, and then discharged, I went to hell.”

“And your father does n’t know?”

“Not from me.  I had money at first, and transportation to Chicago where I enlisted.  I blew in the cash, and lost the other.  Then I started in to beat my passage east, working only when I had to.  I was thrown off a train about twenty miles west of here, and came into this burg on foot.  It was tough luck for a day or two until I caught on to a lumber yard job.  I ’ve been working now for a couple of weeks.  Nice record, is n’t it?”

Her parted lips trembled, but those questioning brown eyes never deserted my face.

“It is not as bad as I feared, if—­if you have told me all.”

“I have confessed the worst anyhow.  I ’m a rough, I suppose, and a bum, but I ’m not a criminal.”

“Why were you at that house? and so afraid of the police?”

“Well, that is a long story,” I replied hesitatingly.  “I had been talking with some men inside, who had offered me work, and good pay.  There was a reason why I did not wish to be seen coming out at that hour.”

“Not—­not anything criminal?”

“No; I ’ve confessed to being a good-for-nothing, but I ’m clear of crime.”

She drew a long breath of relief.

“I do not quite believe,” she said firmly.  “You—­you do not look like that.”

I laughed in spite of my efforts.

“I am delighted to have you say so.  No more do I feel like that now.  Yet so the record reads, and you must accept me just as I am, or not at all.  I have nothing else to offer.”

She lowered her eyes, her fingers still nervously fumbling the menu card.

“Perhaps I have no more.”

“I have asked no explanation of you.”

“True; yet you cannot be devoid of curiosity.  You meet me after midnight, wandering alone in the streets; you see me boldly, shamelessly, interfering to prevent the arrest of a strange man; you hear me deliberately falsify, again and again.  What could you think of such a woman?  Then I accept your invitation, and accompany you here, believing you a criminal.  What possible respect could you, or any other man, entertain for a girl guilty of such indiscretion?”

“You ask my individual judgment, or that of the world?”

“Yours, of course; I know the other already.”