e's anchorage
ahead. . . . He's a splendid fellow, Gerald; you ought to know
him--well--some day; he's just a clean-cut, human, blundering, erring,
unreasonable,lovable man whom any woman, who is not a fool herself,
could manage. . . . Some day I should like to have you know
him--intimately. He's good for people of your sort--even good for a
restless, purposeless woman of my sort. Peace to him!--if there's any
in the world. . . . Turn your back; I'm sniveling."

A moment afterward she had calmed completely; and now she stole a
curious side glance at the boy and blushed a little when he looked back
at her earnestly. Then she smiled and quietly withdrew the hand he had
been holding so tightly in both of his.

"So there we are, my poor friend," she concluded with a shrug; "the old
penny shocker, you know, 'Alone in a great city!'--I've dropped my
handkerchief."

"I want you to believe me your friend," said Gerald, in the low,
resolute voice of unintentional melodrama.

"Why, thank you; are you so sure you want that, Gerald?"

"Yes, as long as I live!" he declared, generous emotion in the
ascendant. A pretty woman upset him very easily even under normal
circumstances. But beauty in distress knocked him flat--as it does every
wholesome boy who is worth his salt.

And he said so in his own naive fashion; and the more eloquent he grew
the more excited he grew and the deeper and blacker appeared her wrongs
to him.

At first she humoured him, and rather enjoyed his fresh, eager sympathy;
after a little his increasing ardour inclined her to laugh; but it was
very splendid and chivalrous and genuine ardour, and the inclination to
laugh died out, for emotion is contagious, and his earnestness not only
flattered her legitimately but stirred the slackened tension of her
heart-strings until, tightening again, they responded very faintly.

"I had no idea that _you_ were lonely," he declared.

"Sometimes I am, a little, Gerald." She ought to have known better.
Perhaps she did.

"Well," he began, "couldn't I come and--"

"No, Gerald."

"I mean just to see you sometimes and have another of these jolly
talks--"

"Do you call this a jolly talk?"--with deep reproach.

"Why--not exactly; but I'm awfully interested, Mrs. Ruthven, and we
understand each other so well--"

"I don't understand _you_", she was imprudent enough to say.

This was delightful! Certainly he must be a particularly sad and subtle
dog if this clever b