"I was happy then. Now, I am breaking my heart, and
I do not know what to do. Oh, I ought not to talk like this, for after
all, you are a stranger. But you are English, or you are American; and
men of those countries never misunderstand a woman, even if she is in
trouble. We can feel ourselves safe with them."
"I'm American," he answered, "and I'm glad you feel like that. I wish I
could help you in some way." He spoke kindly, but not with absolute
warmth of sincerity. The girl saw this, and knew that he did not believe
in her as she wished him to believe, as she intended to make him
believe.
She looked up at him with sad and eloquent eyes, which softened his
heart in spite of himself. "You can't help me, thank you," she said,
"except by kind words and kind thoughts. I think, though, that it would
do me good to tell you things, if you really take an interest?"
"Of course I do." He was speaking the truth now. He was human, and she
was growing prettier, as she grew more pathetic, every moment.
"And would you advise me a little? I have nobody else to ask.
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