ly afterwards you began staring at me like a wild creature, and I
at you. Is that loving? Is that how one human being should meet
another? It's hideous, that's what it is!"

"Yes!" she assented sharply and hurriedly.

I was positively astounded by the promptitude of this "Yes." So the
same thought may have been straying through her mind when she was
staring at me just before. So she, too, was capable of certain
thoughts? "Damn it all, this was interesting, this was a point of
likeness!" I thought, almost rubbing my hands. And indeed it's easy to
turn a young soul like that!

It was the exercise of my power that attracted me most.

She turned her head nearer to me, and it seemed to me in the darkness
that she propped herself on her arm. Perhaps she was scrutinising me.
How I regretted that I could not see her eyes. I heard her deep
breathing.

"Why have you come here?" I asked her, with a note of authority already
in my voice.

"Oh, I don't know."

"But how nice it would be to be living in your father's house! It's
warm and free; you have a home of your own."

"But what if it's worse than this?"

"I must take the right tone," flashed through my mind. "I may not get
far with sentimentality." But it was only a momentary thought. I
swear she really did interest me. Besides, I was exhausted and moody.
And cunning so easily goes hand-in-hand with feeling.

"Who denies it!" I hastened to answer. "Anything may happen. I am
convinced that someone has wronged you, and that you are more sinned
against than sinning. Of course, I know nothing of your story, but
it's not likely a girl like you has come here of her own inclination...."

"A girl like me?" she whispered, hardly audibly; but I heard it.

Damn it all, I was flattering her. That was horrid. But perhaps it
was a good thing.... She was silent.

"See, Liza, I will tell you about myself. If I had had a home from
childhood, I shouldn't be what I am now. I often think that. However
bad it may be at home, anyway they are your father and mother, and not
enemies, strangers. Once a year at least, they'll show their love of
you. Anyway, you know you are at home. I grew up without a home; and
perhaps that's why I've turned so ... unfeeling."

I waited again. "Perhaps she doesn't understand," I thought, "and,
indeed, it is absurd--it's moralising."

"If I were a father and had a daughter, I believe I should love my
daughter more than my sons,