"If you intend to speak to me, sir, I apprehend that I cannot prevent it. You will do well to remember that we are not alone here." Still uncovered, he bowed. "Your ladyship has no need to remind me of that fact. No deed or word of mine will cause you to wish for a protector." "I have yet to learn that," she said. "You appear to know me, sir!" No words will convey any idea of the haughty scorn expressed by the icy tone and the cold glance of the violet eyes. A faint smile, deferential yet self-possessed, swept across his face. "There are some so well known to the world that their faces are easily recognized even in the moonlight; such an one is the Lady Len----" She put up her hand, white and glittering with priceless gems, and at the commanding gesture he stopped, but the smile swept across his face again, and he put up his hand to his lips. "You know my name; you wish to speak to me?" He inclined his head. "What have you to say to me?" She had not asked his name; she had treated him as if he were some beggar who had crept up to her carriage as it stood at rest, and by a mixture of bravado and servility gained her ear. There was a fierce, passionate resentment at this treatment burning in his bosom, but he kept it down. "Is it some favor you have to ask?" she said, with cold, pitiless hauteur, seeing that he hesitated. "Thanks," he said. "I was waiting for a suggestion--I must put it in that way. Yes, I have to ask a favor. My lady, I am a stranger to you----" She waved her hand as if she did not care so much as a withered blade of grass for his personal history, and with a little twitch of the lips he continued: "I am a stranger to you, but I still venture to ask your assistance." She looked and smiled like one who has known all along what was coming, but to please his own whim, had waited quite naturally. "Exactly," she said. "I have no money----" Then he started and stood before her, and what there was of manliness awoke within him. "Money!" he said. "Are you mad?" Lady Lenore stared at him haughtily. "I fear that you are," she said. "Did you not demand--_ask_ is too commonplace a word to describe a request made by a man of a woman alone and unprotected--did you not demand money, sir?" "Money!" he repeated; then he smiled. "You are laboring under a misapprehension," he said. "I am in no need of money. The assistance I need is not of a pecuniary kind." "Then what is it?" she asked, and he detected a touch of curiosity in the insolently-haughty voice. "Be good enough to state your desire as briefly as you can, sir, and permit me to go on my way." Then he played a card. With a low bow he raised his hat, and drew from the path. "I beg your ladyship's pardon," he said, respectfully, but with a scarcely feigned air of disappointment. "I see that I have made a mistake. I apologize most humbly for having intruded upon your good nature, and I take my leave. I wish your ladyship good-evening," and he turned.