ed at this, she even suffered him, for some reason unknown to
herself, to take her arm again.

"How could I help you?"

"Oh, in a thousand ways--you ought to know, you do a good deal of
thinking for me, and you can help me by just being there. I can't explain
it, but I feel somehow that things will go right. I've come to depend on
you."

He was a little surprised to find himself saying these things he had not
intended to say, and the lighter touch he had always possessed in dealing
with the other sex, making him the envied of his friends, had apparently
abandoned him. He was appalled at the possibility of losing her.

"I've never met a woman like you," he went on, as she remained silent.
"You're different--I don't know what it is about you, but you are." His
voice was low, caressing, his head was bent down to her, his shoulder
pressed against her shoulder. "I've never had a woman friend before, I've
never wanted one until now."

She wondered about his wife.

"You've got brains--I've never met a woman with brains."

"Oh, is that why?" she exclaimed.

"You're beautiful," he whispered. "It's queer, but I didn't know it at
first. You're more beautiful to-night than I've ever seen you."

They had come almost to Warren Street. Suddenly realizing that they were
standing in the light, that people were passing to and fro over the end
of the bridge, she drew away from him once more, this time more gently.

"Let's walk back a little way," he proposed.

"I must go home--it's late."

"It's only nine o'clock."

"I have an errand to do, and they'll expect me. Good night."

"Just one more turn!" he pleaded.

But she shook her head, backing away from him.

"You'll see me to-morrow," she told him. She didn't know why she said
that. She hurried along Warren Street without once looking over her
shoulder; her feet seemed scarcely to touch the ground, the sound of
music was in her ears, the lights sparkled. She had had an adventure, at
last, an adventure that magically had transformed her life! She was
beautiful! No one had ever told her that before. And he had said that he
needed her. She smiled as, with an access of tenderness, in spite of his
experience and power she suddenly felt years older than Ditmar. She could
help him!...

She was breathless when she reached the shop in Faber Street.

"I hope I haven't kept you waiting," she said.

"Oh no, we don't close until ten," answered the saleswoman. She was
seated qui