er face was a delicate oval, and her hair was a deep
black, waving freely over a strong, broad forehead. It was her speech
that betrayed her; otherwise she was little like the flower-girl that
Adrian Fellowes had introduced to Al'mah, who had got her a place in
the chorus of the opera and had also given her personal care and
friendly help.

"Where is he? In the hospital?" Stafford asked.

"It was just beside our own 'ome it 'appened. We got two rooms now,
Jigger and me. 'E was took in there. The doctor come, but 'e says it
ain't no use. 'E didn't seem to care much, and 'e didn't give no 'ope,
not even when I said I'd give him all me wages for a year."

Jasmine was beside her now, wiping her tears and holding her hand, her
impulsive nature stirred, her heart throbbing with desire to help.
Suddenly she remembered what Rudyard had said up-stairs three hours
ago, that there wasn't a single person in the world to whom they had
done an act which was truly and purely personal during the past three
years: and she had a tremulous desire to help this crude, mothering,
passionately pitiful girl.

"What will you do?" Jasmine said to Stafford.

"I will go at once. Tell my servant to have up a cab," he said to
Krool, who stood outside the door.

"Truly, 'e will be glad," the girl exclaimed. "'E told me about the
suvring, and Sunday-week for brekfis," she murmured. "You'll never miss
the time, y'r gryce. Gawd knows you'll not miss it--an' 'e ain't got
much left."

"I will go, too--if you will let me," said Jasmine to Stafford. "You
must let me go. I want to help--so much."

"No, you must not come," he replied. "I will pick up a surgeon in
Harley Street, and we'll see if it is as hopeless as she says. But you
must not come to-night. To-morrow, certainly, to-morrow, if you will.
Perhaps you can do some good then. I will let you know."

He held out his hand to say good-bye, as the girl passed out with
Jasmine's kiss on her cheek and a comforting assurance of help.

Jasmine did not press her request. First there was the fact that
Rudyard did not know, and might strongly disapprove; and secondly,
somehow, she had got nearer to Stafford in the last few minutes than in
all the previous hours since they had met again. Nowhere, by all her
art, had she herself touched him, or opened up in his nature one tiny
stream of feeling; but this girl's story and this piteous incident had
softened him, had broken down the barriers which had ch