that of the world?"

"Yours, of course; I know the other already."

I extended my hand across the table, and placed it over her own. A
swift flush sprang to her cheeks, but she made no effort to draw away.
The action was so natural, so unaffectedly sincere, as to awaken no
resentment.

"I am a young man," I said earnestly, "but I have seen all kinds of
life, both right and wrong, upper and lower. I can realize how easy it
is to sit in a club window, and criticize the people passing along the
street. That is an amusement of fools. The inclination to become one
of that class left me long ago. Now I do not understand why you were
upon the street tonight unattended; why you came to my assistance, or
why you are here with me now. I have no desire to pry into your
secret. I am content to remain grateful, to count this a red-letter
day, because somehow, out of the mystery of the dark, we have thus been
brought together. An old professor used to say all life hinges on
little things, and I believe our chance meeting is going to change both
our lives, and for the better. Without asking a question, or harboring
a suspicion, I have faith in you--is that enough?"

"You mean, you accept me upon trust?"

"Certainly; even as you must accept me. I have no letters of
recommendation."

She was again looking directly toward me, her brown eyes earnest and
fearless.

"I--I confess I like your face," she admitted, "and I believe you have
tried to tell me the truth about yourself, but our situation is so
peculiar, so different from what I have been taught was proper." She
smiled sadly, her eyes misting. "I am afraid you will not understand.
You can scarcely appreciate how strictly I have been brought up, or
what such an unconventional meeting as this means to me. I ought to be
ashamed of myself."

"But are you?"

"Really I--I do not seem to be. It almost frightens me to realize I am
not, I do not understand myself at all. Why should I talk thus frankly
with you? Why feel confidence in you? It is not in accordance with
the rules of my old life, nor of my nature. Such actions would shock
those who know me; they ought to shock me. Am I in a dream, from which
I am going to awaken presently? Is that the explanation?"

I shook my head.

"No, not in that sense, at least. Rather the other way around. You
have been in a dream all your life--a dream that some social code
somewhere constituted the real world. Under