"I do comprehend," I admitted seriously. "Believe me I have felt the
truth of this ever since I first saw your face. You have ample reason
for misjudging me, for believing me a criminal, but I possess no excuse
for even questioning you. Shall we not permit the whole matter to rest
there, and pretend at being friends for the moment? You have already
acknowledged being both homeless and hungry. What more do I need know
to be of assistance? The cause of such a condition is no business of
mine, unless you choose to tell me voluntarily. You may not consider
me a gentleman," and I glanced down at my cheap suit. "Yet surely you
cannot regard me as a mere brute."

She continued to gaze at me, her eyes misty, yet full of wonderment.
My language was not that of the slums, nor were my manners. To her I
must have seemed as strange a character, as she appeared to me. We
were both advancing blindly through the dark.

"You are also," she affirmed finally, as if half regretting the words.
"You are just as penniless as I."

"Why should you say that?"

"Because I know," and by now her eyes were blinded by the tears
clinging to her lashes. "You--you humiliated yourself to serve me;
you--you were obliged to pawn something in security for this food.
I--I saw you--your excuse for leaving me outside was just a sham. You
had no money. I watched through the window, and--and I almost ran
away, only my promise held me."

I laughed uneasily, yet sobered almost at once, leaning across the
table, all earlier embarrassment vanished.