artists, as long as her beauty lasted," so Frost began his story, "but six months ago she was stricken with paralysis, which so misused her that it took the bread from her mouth, and but for me they would have starved.
"I had great sympathy for the girl, and from her face I had made many hundreds, so I considered it my duty to look after her in this dark hour of affliction."
"That was just and noble," said Cherokee, forgetting for a moment the record of the man.
He went on: "She loved me devotedly, though she knew I was married, and during her illness she fancied she would be perfectly happy if she convinced herself that I was not ashamed to present her to my wife."
"Then it was your wife she wanted to see, and I was to be presented under false colors," she demanded, rather sternly.
"It would have been all the same to her, she never would have been wiser."
"Mr. Frost, I believe you would do anything, and let me say, just here, my courtesy to you is not real. I do it because, strange to say, my husband likes you."
Just then they reached her stopping place.
