n home, though she had said timidly
that she was not in the least afraid, that she would not trouble any
one, that she could take a car. Cynthia herself had insisted that
Robert should escort her.

"It's too late for you to be out alone," she said, and the girl
seemed to perceive dimly a hedge of conventionality which she had
not hitherto known. She had often taken a car when she was alone of
an evening, without a thought of anything questionable. Some of the
conductors lived near Ellen, and she felt as if she were under
personal friendly escort. "I know the conductor on that car, and it
would take me right home, and I am not in the least afraid," she
said to Robert, as the car came rocking down the street when they
emerged from Cynthia's grounds.

"It's a lovely night," Robert said, speaking quickly as they paused
on the sidewalk. "I am not going to let you go alone, anyway. We
will take the car if you say so, but what do you say to walking?
It's a lovely night."

It actually flashed through Ellen's mind--to such small issues of
finance had she been accustomed--that the young man might insist
upon paying her car-fare if he went with her on the car.

"I would like to walk, but I am sorry to put you to so much
trouble," she said, a little awkwardly.

"Oh, I like to walk," returned Robert. "I don't walk half enough,"
and they went together down the lighted street. Suddenly to Ellen
there came a vivid remembrance, so vivid that it seemed almost like
actual repetition of the time when she, a little child, maddened by
the sudden awakening of the depths of her nature, had come down this
same street. She saw that same brilliant market-window where she had
stopped and stared, to the momentary forgetfulness of her troubles
in the spectacular display of that which was entirely outside them.
Curiously enough, Robert drew her to a full stop that night before
the same window. It was one of those strange cases of apparent
telepathy which one sometimes notices. When Ellen looked at the
market-window, with a flash of reminiscence, Robert immediately drew
her to a stop before it. "That is quite a study in color," he said.
"I fancy there are a good many unrecognized artists among
market-men."

"Yes, it is really beautiful," agreed Ellen, looking at it with eyes
which had changed very little from their childish outlook. Again she
saw more than she saw. The window differed materially from that
before which she had stood fascinated