ever mind about shaving now, you can stop
at a barber's later on. Your hair needs cutting. Put on a clean collar.
After I get that woman, we'll stop at the flat; the milk will be there
and I'll give you some breakfast. Come along!"

Frieda is a woman of the compelling kind, but it's a joy to obey her.
After I had adjusted my collar and tie we started, but when we reached
the door opposite she opened it, very quietly, while I waited, and
tiptoed in.

"She's awake," she said, again opening the door. "She says she would
like to thank you for your kindness. She knows she would have died, if
you had not sought help for her."

"Stuff and nonsense," I said, quite low. "You don't expect me to go in
there, do you?"

"I certainly do, because she wishes it. Don't be stupid!"

So I entered, rather embarrassed, thinking to see the face of a woman
crucified. But her smile was the sweetest thing I had ever beheld, I'm
very sure. I could hardly recognize her after that memory of haggard and
tortured features. She put out her hand to me, weakly.

"I--I want to thank you--ever so much," she said. "It was so awfully
kind of you, and--and you sent me an angel."

"Oh, yes," said Frieda, grinning. "I see myself with wings sprouting
from my shoulder-blades. Good-by for a short time, my dear. You'll only
be alone for a few minutes. Yes, the baby will be all right; don't you
worry. No, he won't be hungry for a long time, the doctor said, and you
are to let him sleep and do the same yourself. Now come along, David."

I was delighted to have Frieda's escort, as I scented danger below. Her
support gave me boundless joy when, at the foot of the stairs, I saw
Mrs. Milliken, returned on some frightfully early ferryboat. She looked
at us with amazement and suspicion.

"My dear Mrs. Milliken," I began, in my most ingratiating tones, "a new
boarder has arrived during the night. I can assure you the young man
would not have intruded had he possessed greater experience of life. We
will have to forgive him on account of his tender youth."

"They must be packed off at once," cried the woman. "How could you?"

"I beg to observe that it was not my tender heart but yours that gave
her shelter," I said. "My own responsibility is extremely limited, and
my part in the affair a most subsidiary one."

"And besides, Mrs. Milliken," put in Frieda, "no one but David Cole
lives on that floor. If he makes no complaint, no others are very likely
to, and the