"
"To understand what?"
"How any man meeting her as I have you--in the street at night, under
conditions society would frown at--can still feel for her a profound
respect, and pay her the deference which a gentleman must always extend
to one he deems worthy."
For a long moment she did not speak, but withdrew her hand from beneath
mine, resting her chin in its palm.
"What is your name?" she asked finally.
"Gordon Craig."
The lashes drooped quickly, securely shadowing the brown depths, the
flush deepening on her cheeks. In the momentary hush which followed
the waiter came shuffling forward with our order.
CHAPTER VII
THE WOMAN'S STORY
I had never supposed I lacked audacity, yet I found it strangely
difficult to again pick up our conversation. This woman puzzled me;
was becoming an enigma. She encouraged me, and yet something about her
precluded all familiarity. I was haunted by the vague suspicion that
she might be "stringing" me; that she was not as innocent as she
pretended. Her eyes again glanced up, and met mine.
"It is a terrible experience being penniless, and alone," she said with
a shudder. "I can never condemn some forms of evil as I once did, for
now I have felt temptation myself. I--I have even learned to doubt my
own strength of character.
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