“Oh, no,” I cried. “Nor it is. Nor it is, Miss Moonbeam. Believe me.” “I do,” she said. “I do believe you. Get out of the light, Bags. I want to look at him.” For a moment I sat in silence, permitting her to feast her eyes. Then she bent forward a little, holding out her hands. “Oh, Mr. Carp,” she said, “I’m only a poor actress. Help me to be better. Help me to be like you.” Withdrawing my gloves and putting them in my left-hand pocket, I advanced towards her and took hold of her hands. “My dear Miss Moonbeam,” I said. But she looked at me rather pathetically. “Oh, Mr. Carp,” she said, “won’t you call me Mary?” I considered for a moment. It was a difficult position. For though I could not help feeling that she was a little presumptuous, I had to remember that this was probably the first occasion on which she had met a really good man. I therefore decided to grant her petition. “My dear Mary,” I said, “I shall be only too happy.” She breathed a sigh and removed her hands. “Oh, how lovely of you,” she said. “Now I must go on dressing.” “But, my dear Mary,” I said, “is that necessary?” “Oh, I think so,” she said. “You see, if I didn’t——” I waved my hand. “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood me,” I said. “Very likely,” she said. “I’m so stupid. But you’re going to help me, Mr. Carp, aren’t you?” I bowed sympathetically. “Nothing could please me more,” I said, “than to lead you out of darkness into the membership of our Union. But would it not be better to rise up at once—to rise up at once, I say, and come away?” But she shook her head. “You see, I’m bound by a contract,” she said, “and I have to support rather a large family.” Involuntarily I staggered a little. “But, Mary,” I cried. “Brothers and sisters,” she explained. “I’m paying for their education.” Profoundly relieved, and not a little touched, I regained my equilibrium and invited her to confide in me. Her mother was dead, it appeared, and her father had been unfortunate and was now unable to provide for his children. “And so they batten,” I said, “on your ill-gotten earnings.” She turned and looked at me for a moment in silence. Then she smiled again as she put on her slippers. “You seem to understand things,” she said, “so quickly.” Then a small boy looked round the door. “Curtain’s up, miss,” he said and disappeared again. “Oh dear, oh dear,” she cried, “how the time flies. Can’t you come and talk to me after the show?” I smiled at her not unkindly. “By ten-fifteen,” I said, “I shall be in my bedroom.” “But what am I to do?” she said. “I’ve begun to lean on you. You aren’t going to leave me here wallowing?” I stared at her. “Wallowing in what?” I asked. “Why, in the darkness,” she said, “killing all those people.” I took her hands again. “My dear Mary,” I said, “it is in order to remove you that I am here.” She gave a little sigh. “Oh, I was sure I could trust you,” she said. “I knew I could trust you, the moment I saw you.”