Half a Rogue | Page 3

She glanced at it through a blur of tears, then sat down. He shrugged his shoulders slightly; his vanity was touched. There was, then, a young woman in New York who had not heard of Richard Warrington.
"In asking you to be seated," he explained, "it was in order that you might wait in comfort while I despatched a messenger to your home. Doubtless you have a brother, a father, or some male relative, who will come at once to your assistance." Which proved that Warrington was prudent.
But instead of brightening as he expected she would, she straightened in her chair, while her eyes widened with horror, as if she saw something frightful in perspective.
What the deuce could be the matter now? he wondered, as he witnessed this inexplicable change.
"No, no! You must not send a messenger!" she protested.
"But--"
"No, no!" tears welling into her beautiful eyes again. They were beautiful, he was forced to admit.
"But," he persisted, "you wished the waiter to do so. I do not understand." His tone became formal again.
"I have reasons. Oh, heavens! I am the most miserable woman in all the world!" She suddenly bowed her head upon her hands and her shoulders rose and fell with silent sobs.
Warrington stared at her, dumfounded. NOW what? He glanced cautiously around as if in search of some avenue of escape. The waiter, ever watchful, assumed that he was wanted, and made as though to approach the table; but Warrington warned him off. All distrust in the girl vanished. Decidedly she was in great trouble of some sort, and it wasn't because she could not pay a restaurant check. Women--and especially New York women--do not shed tears when a stranger offers to settle for their dinner checks.
"If you will kindly explain to me what the trouble is," visibly embarrassed, "perhaps I can help you. Have you run away from borne?" he asked.
A negative nod.
"Are you married?"
Another negative nod.
Warrington scratched his chin. "Have you done anything wrong?"
A decided negative shake of the head. At any other time the gesticulation of the ostrich plume, so close to his face, would have amused him; but there was something eminently pathetic in the diapasm which drifted toward him from the feather.
"Come, come; you may trust me thoroughly. If you are afraid to return home alone--"
He was interrupted by an affirmative nod this time. Possibly, he conjectured, the girl had started out to elope and had fortunately paused at the brink.
"Will it help you at all if I go home with you?" he asked.
His ear caught a muffled "Yes."
Warrington beckoned to the waiter.
"Order a cab at once," he said.
The waiter hurried away, with visions of handsome tips.
Presently the girl raised her head and sat up. Her eyes, dark as shadows in still waters, glistened.
"Be perfectly frank with me; and if I can be of service to you, do not hesitate to command me." He eyed her thoughtfully. Everything attached to her person suggested elegance. Her skin was as fine as vellum; her hair had a dash of golden bronze in it; her hands were white and shapely, and the horn on the tips of the fingers shone rosily. Now, what in the world was there to trouble a young woman who possessed these favors, who wore jewels on her fingers and sable on her shoulders? "Talk to me just as you would to a brother," he added presently.
"You will take this ring," she said irrelevantly. She slipped a fine sapphire from one of her fingers and pushed it across the table.
"And for what reason?" he cried.
"Security for my dinner. I can not accept charity," with a hint of hauteur which did not in the least displease him.
"But, my dear young woman, I can not accept this ring. You have my address. You may send the sum whenever you please. I see no reason why, as soon as you arrive home, you can not refund the small sum of two dollars and ten cents. It appears to me very simple."
"There will be no one at home, not even the servants," wearily.
Warrington's brows came together. Was the girl fooling him, after all? But for what reason?
"You have me confused," he admitted. "I can do nothing blindly. Tell me what the trouble is."
"How can I tell you, an absolute stranger? It is all so frightful, and I am so young!"
Frightful? Young? He picked up his half-finished cigar, but immediately let it fall. He stole a look at his watch; it was seven.
"Oh, I know what you must think of me," despairingly. "Nobody believes in another's real misfortune in this horrid city. There are so many fraudulent methods used to obtain people's sympathies that every one has lost trust. I had no money when I entered here; but outside it was so dark. Whenever I stopped, wondering where