“Order a cab at once,” he said.

The waiter hurried away, with visions of handsome tips.

Presently the girl raised her head and sat up.  Her eyes, dark as shadows in still waters, glistened.

“Be perfectly frank with me; and if I can be of service to you, do not hesitate to command me.”  He eyed her thoughtfully.  Everything attached to her person suggested elegance.  Her skin was as fine as vellum; her hair had a dash of golden bronze in it; her hands were white and shapely, and the horn on the tips of the fingers shone rosily.  Now, what in the world was there to trouble a young woman who possessed these favors, who wore jewels on her fingers and sable on her shoulders?  “Talk to me just as you would to a brother,” he added presently.

“You will take this ring,” she said irrelevantly.  She slipped a fine sapphire from one of her fingers and pushed it across the table.

“And for what reason?” he cried.

“Security for my dinner.  I can not accept charity,” with a hint of hauteur which did not in the least displease him.

“But, my dear young woman, I can not accept this ring.  You have my address.  You may send the sum whenever you please.  I see no reason why, as soon as you arrive home, you can not refund the small sum of two dollars and ten cents.  It appears to me very simple.”

“There will be no one at home, not even the servants,” wearily.

Warrington’s brows came together.  Was the girl fooling him, after all?  But for what reason?

“You have me confused,” he admitted.  “I can do nothing blindly.  Tell me what the trouble is.”

“How can I tell you, an absolute stranger?  It is all so frightful, and I am so young!”

Frightful?  Young?  He picked up his half-finished cigar, but immediately let it fall.  He stole a look at his watch; it was seven.

“Oh, I know what you must think of me,” despairingly.  “Nobody believes in another’s real misfortune in this horrid city.  There are so many fraudulent methods used to obtain people’s sympathies that every one has lost trust.  I had no money when I entered here; but outside it was so dark.  Whenever I stopped, wondering where I should go, men turned and stared at me.  Once a policeman peered into my face suspiciously.  And I dared not return home, I dared not!  No, no; I promise not to embarrass you with any more tears.”  She brushed her eyes with a rapid movement.

Warrington’s success as a dramatist was due largely to his interest in all things that passed under his notice.  Nothing was too trivial to observe.  The tragic threads of human life, which escaped the eyes of the passing many or were ignored by them, always aroused his interest and attention; and more than once he had picked up one of these threads and followed it to the end.  Out of these seemingly insignificant things he often built one of those breathless, nerve-gripping climaxes which had, in a few years’ time, made him famous.  In the present case he believed that he had stumbled upon something worthy his investigation.  This handsome young woman, richly dressed, who dared not go home, who had jewels but no money—­there was some mystery surrounding her, and he determined to find out what it was.  And then, besides, for all that he was worldly, he was young and still believed in his Keats.