"Would she--er--do you think, as I'm an American, and we're almost old
friends, mind letting you have lunch just with me alone? Of course, if
she would mind, you must say no. But I must confess, I'm hungry as a
wolf; and it would be somewhere to sit and talk together, quietly, you
know."

"You are hungry," echoed the girl. "Ah, I would wager something that you
don't really know what hunger is. But I know--now."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it is well my mother is ill, and doesn't wish to eat, for there
would be nothing for her, if she did."

"Good heavens! And you?"

"I have had nothing to eat since yesterday morning, and then only a
biscuit with a glass of water."

"My poor girl, we won't say anything more about chaperons. Come along
with me to Ciro's this instant, to lunch, and tell me everything."

He was completely won over now, and looked very handsome, with a slight
flush on his brown face, and his dark eyes bright with excitement.

The girl lowered her long lashes, perhaps to hide tears.

When she did this, and drooped the corners of her mouth, she was very
engaging, and the young man tingled all over with pity. That poor,
pretty creature, starving, in her charming pink dress and hat of roses.
How strange life was! It was something to be thankful for that he had
met her.

A little while ago, he had walked through the Galerie Charles Trois,
thinking how delightful the tables looked at Ciro's, and making up his
mind to return there for lunch. But afterwards, on the terrace, he had
been so miserable that he would probably have forgotten all about his
plan, if it had not been for the girl.

Now, he chose a small table in a corner of the balcony, close to the
glass screen. A month later, he might have had to engage it long
beforehand; but to-day, though the place was well filled with pretty
women and their attendant men, there was not a crowd, and he could
listen to his companion's low-voiced confidences without fear of being
overheard.

CHAPTER TWO

THE ROSE GIRL'S LITTLE STORY, AND GREAT EYES

He ordered a lunch which he thought the girl would like, with wine to
revive the faculties that he knew must be failing. Then, when she had
eaten a little, daintily in spite of her hunger, he encouraged her to
talk.

"Mother and I are all alone in the world," she said. "We are Belgian,
and live in Brussels, but we have drifted about a good deal, just
amusing ourselves. Somehow we never happened