THE HEAD OF CÆSAR
thoughts. "It doesn't say 'Sela,' like the thing in the psalms; I read it like that myself when I was wool-gathering just now; it says 'Ales.'"
"Well?" inquired the staring young lady. "What does it matter what it says?"
His ruminating eye roved to the girl's light canvas sleeve, round the wrist of which ran a very slight thread of artistic pattern, just enough to distinguish it from a working dress of a common woman and make it more like the working dress of a lady art-student. He seemed to find much food for thought in this; but his reply was very slow and hesitant. "You see, madam," he said, "from outside the place looks—well, it is a perfectly decent place—but ladies like you don't—don't generally think so. They never go into such places from choice, except"
"Well?" she repeated.
"Except an unfortunate few who don't go in to drink milk."
"You are a most singular person," said the young lady. "What is your object in all this?"
"Not to trouble you about it," he replied, very gently. "Only to arm myself with knowledge enough to help you, if ever you freely ask my help."
"But why should I need help?"
He continued his dreamy monologue. "You couldn't have come in to see protégées, humble
137
