ain honest. Partly from
the delicacy of feeling due to this belief, and partly because I had
but thirty-five cents in my pocket, I made no offer of pecuniary
assistance. But, after giving me a conventional explanation of the
cause of the black eye, she hinted plainly that, unless she could raise
ten dollars before night, she would be turned out of her room. This was
serious, and I took thought.

"It was Friday, and a holiday. I knew that there was no one in the
building but Bunker and myself, and Bunker was one of those rollicking
souls who are in a continuous condition of cheerful impecuniosity.
There was not a place open in the neighborhood except the saloons, and
there I was not known. Clearly, I could not raise any money for her
that day; but I promised her the use of my studio for the two following
nights, when I should be home in the country, and I agreed to induce
Bunker, who slept in his boarding-house, to put her up in his place for
that night. This would provide sleeping quarters and the use of my
gas-stove and ice-box for three nights and two days, by which time
something might turn up. She expressed herself as satisfied, and I went
out to interview Bunker.

"'No,' he declared, vehemently, 'I can't take any woman to my place.'
'Bunker,' I interrupted, solemnly, 'you brought this young woman here,
you have pretended to be her friend, and her claim upon you is enough
to warrant her in expecting help at this critical moment. Remember,
Bunker, this is a crisis with her. If she is helped, she may pull
through; if not, she may lose heart and courage, and go to ruin.'

"My words impressed him. 'All right,' he said; 'I don't know much about
her lately--knew her family well, out West--that's all. I'll give you
my key, before I go home--want to lock myself in and work for a while
now. Have a drink. Got some good stuff here.'

"I declined, and went back to my visitor, picking up on the way a
telegraph messenger, who had arrived with a dispatch for me.

"Unwearied in well-doing, glad that I was an instrument in helping this
worthy young woman, I assured her of the success of my mission--before
opening the telegram. And she thanked me, with tears--genuine again.
Then, slightly affected myself, I broke the envelope, and read:

"'Meet me 5.30 Pennsylvania ferry. If miss you will come to your
office.

"'MAUD MILNER.'

"Now, Maud Milner was the wife of an old friend of mine; and, too, she
was my wife's o