He shoved a large leather chair into place to the left and, facing
her, enjoyed to himself the sensation of playing host to her hostess
in this beautiful house. She looked up at him.

"I suppose you wonder what brought me out there?"

"In a general way--yes," he answered frankly. "But I don't wish
you to feel under any obligation to tell me. I see you as you sit
there,--that is enough."

"There is so little else," she replied. She hesitated, then added,
"That is, that anyone seems to understand."

"You really had no place to which you could go for the night?"

"No. I am an utter stranger here. I came up this morning from
Newburyport--that's about forty miles. I lost my purse and my ticket,
so you see I was quite helpless. I was afraid to ask anyone for help,
and then--I hoped every minute that I might find my father."

"But I thought you knew no one here?"

"I don't. If Dad is here, it is quite by chance."

She looked again into his blue eyes and then back to the fire.

"It is wonderful how you came to me," she said.

"I saw you twice before."

"Once," she said, "was just beyond the Gardens."

"You noticed me?"

"Yes."

She leaned forward.

"Yes," she repeated, "I noticed you because of all the faces I had
looked into since morning yours was the first I felt I could trust."

"Thank you."

"And now," she continued, "I feel as though you might even understand
better than the others what my errand here to Boston was." She paused
again, adding, "I should hate to have you think me silly."

She studied his face eagerly. His eyes showed interest; his mouth
assured her of sympathy.

"Go on," he bade her.

To him she was like someone he had known before--like one of those
vague women he used to see between the stars. Within even these last
few minutes he had gotten over the strangeness of her being here. He
did not think of this building as a house, of this room as part of a
home; it was just a cave opening from the roadside into which they had
fled to escape the rain.

It seemed difficult for her to begin. Now that she had determined to
tell him she was anxious for him to see clearly.

"I ought to go back," she faltered; "back a long way into my life, and
I'm afraid that won't be interesting to you."

"You can't go very far back," he laughed. Then he added seriously, "I
am really interested. Please to tell it in your own way."

"Well, to begin with, Dad was a sea captain and he married the very
b