had hardly a right to be there. To himself it was most proper, but in this young woman, a police constable's daughter, who earned her living in the theater, a little embarrassment of some kind would have been an added grace. If anything however she had more composure than he; and in spite of the charm and the power of a personality that was vivid yet clear-cut, he could not help resenting the fact just a little.
When at last he had slowly resettled himself on his two chairs he turned eyes of ironical power full upon her. Yes, she was amazingly handsome, and she reminded him strangely of a face he had seen. "I wonder if you know why I have asked you to be so kind as to come here," were the first words he spoke. And he seemed to weigh each one very carefully before he uttered it.
"I think I do, at least I think I may guess." The note of absolute frankness was so much more than he had a right to look for that it pleased him more than it need have done.
"Well?" he said, with a gentleness in his voice of which he was not aware.
"I'm afraid I've been causing a lot of trouble." The tone of regret was so perfectly sincere that it threw him off his guard. He had not expected this, nay, he had looked for something totally different. The girl was a lady, no matter what her private circumstances might be, and with a sudden deep annoyance he felt that it was going to be supremely difficult to say in just so many words what he had to say.
To his relief, however, she seemed with the flair of her sex at once to divine his difficulty. This splendid-looking
