know that I must not be any further trouble to
you. You have done more already than any one could expect. If you can have
the carriage stop in some quiet, out-of-the-way street where I shall not
be noticed, I will get out and relieve you. If I hadn't been so frightened
at first, I should have had more sense than to burden you this way. I hope
some day I shall be able to repay your kindness, though I fear it is too
great ever to repay."

"Please don't talk in that way," said he protestingly. "It has been a
pleasure to do the little that I have done, and you have more than repaid
it by the delight you have given me and my friends. I could not think of
leaving you until you are out of your trouble, and if you will only give
me a little hint of how to help, I will do my utmost for you. Are you
quite sure you were followed? Don't you think you could trust me enough to
tell me a little more about the matter?"

She shuddered visibly.

"Forgive me," he murmured. "I see it distresses you. Of course it is
unpleasant to confide in an utter stranger. I will not ask you to tell me.
I will try to think for you. Suppose we go to the station and get you a
ticket to somewhere. Have you any preference? You can trust me not to tell
any one where you have gone, can you not?" There was a kind rebuke in his
tone, and her eyes, as she lifted them to his face, were full of tears.

"Oh, I do trust you!" she cried, distressed "You must not think that,
but--you do not understand."

"Forgive me," he said again, holding out his hand in appeal. She laid her
little gloved hand in his for an instant.

"You are so kind!" she murmured, as if it were the only thing she could
think of. Then she added suddenly:

"But I cannot buy a ticket. I have no money with me, and I----"

"Don't think of that for an instant. I will gladly supply your need. A
little loan should not distress you."

"But I do not know when I shall be able to repay it," she faltered,
"unless"--she hastily drew off her glove and slipped a glittering ring
from her finger--"unless you will let this pay for it. I do not like to
trouble you so, but the stone is worth a good deal."

"Indeed," he protested, "I couldn't think of taking your ring. Let me do
this. It is such a small thing. I shall never miss it. Let it rest until
you are out of your trouble, at least."

"Please!" she insisted, holding out the ring. "I shall get right out of
this carriage unless you do."

"But perhaps s