She was light and slender, and he was a strong lad and managed to steady her.  An expression of sharp momentary anguish crossed her face.

“I hope you are not hurt,” Marco said.

She bit her lip and clutched his shoulder very hard with her slim hand.

“I have twisted my ankle,” she answered.  “I am afraid I have twisted it badly.  Thank you for saving me.  I should have had a bad fall.”

Her long, dark eyes were very sweet and grateful.  She tried to smile, but there was such distress under the effort that Marco was afraid she must have hurt herself very much.

“Can you stand on your foot at all?” he asked.

“I can stand a little now,” she said, “but I might not be able to stand in a few minutes.  I must get back to the house while I can bear to touch the ground with it.  I am so sorry.  I am afraid I shall have to ask you to go with me.  Fortunately it is only a few yards away.”

“Yes,” Marco answered.  “I saw you come out of the house.  If you will lean on my shoulder, I can soon help you back.  I am glad to do it.  Shall we try now?”

She had a gentle and soft manner which would have appealed to any boy.  Her voice was musical and her enunciation exquisite.

Whether she was Spanish or Italian, it was easy to imagine her a person who did not always live in London lodgings, even of the better class.

“If you please,” she answered him.  “It is very kind of you.  You are very strong, I see.  But I am glad to have only a few steps to go.”

She rested on his shoulder as well as on her umbrella, but it was plain that every movement gave her intense pain.  She caught her lip with her teeth, and Marco thought she turned white.  He could not help liking her.  She was so lovely and gracious and brave.  He could not bear to see the suffering in her face.

“I am so sorry!” he said, as he helped her, and his boy’s voice had something of the wonderful sympathetic tone of Loristan’s.  The beautiful lady herself remarked it, and thought how unlike it was to the ordinary boy-voice.

“I have a latch-key,” she said, when they stood on the low step.

She found the latch-key in her purse and opened the door.  Marco helped her into the entrance-hall.  She sat down at once in a chair near the hat-stand.  The place was quite plain and old-fashioned inside.

“Shall I ring the front-door bell to call some one?” Marco inquired.

“I am afraid that the servants are out,” she answered.  “They had a holiday.  Will you kindly close the door?  I shall be obliged to ask you to help me into the sitting-room at the end of the hall.  I shall find all I want there—­if you will kindly hand me a few things.  Some one may come in presently—­perhaps one of the other lodgers—­and, even if I am alone for an hour or so, it will not really matter.”

“Perhaps I can find the landlady,” Marco suggested.  The beautiful person smiled.