I looked at her a second time, for I confess to being attracted by her quietness of dress, her natural dignity, and the agitation within her which she was trying in vain to conceal. Demure and unaffected, she was so utterly out of place in that centre of, London gaiety that I could not help pausing to watch her. Those of her sex who passed looked somewhat askance at her and smiled among themselves, while more than one man ogled her through his monocle. But not a single glance did she bestow upon any in return save myself. In dismay she looked slowly around the well-lit vestibule and out into the street, where cabs and carriages were driving off. Then she gazed about her, evidently hesitating how to act. There was a hard curl at the corners of her mouth, and a contraction of the eyelids which showed me that tears were ready to start. Yes, there was no doubt whatever that she was in distress, and needed assistance. She was speaking earnestly with one of the uniformed doorkeepers, an elderly attendant whom I knew quite well, a highly-respectable pensioner in whom the management reposed the greatest confidence. Noticing me standing there, he came forward with a military salute, saying-- "Excuse me, sir. But I have a lady here who's in a rather curious difficulty. You know London well, sir?" "I think so," I answered, smiling. "Well, will you speak with her a moment, sir?" "What's her trouble?" I inquired, somewhat surprised, nevertheless crossing with him to where she stood, and raising my hat. I confess that she was so eminently beautiful, her face so absolutely flawless in its contour and innocent in its expression, that she had fascinated me. I was beneath the spell of her marvellous beauty. Many women had smiled upon me, women who were more than passing fair; but never had my eyes fallen upon one whose purity of soul was so mirrored in her eyes, or whose face was so childlike and so perfect. Those tendrils, soft as floss silk, were of that delicate gold which the majority of women lose with their teens; those eyes possessed the true clearness which innocence alone can impart. "If I can render you any assistance I will do so with pleasure," I said, addressing her, adding, "I noticed a moment ago that you appeared to be in distress." "You are extremely kind," she answered, raising her eyes to mine for an instant. Her glance was steady and searching, and I saw that she was undecided whether to trust me. "You were quite correct in thinking I am in distress, and if you really could help me I should be so much obliged." "Then what troubles you?" I inquired, well satisfied with her answer, and anxious that she should make me her confidant. "I have been separated from my friends, and am a stranger to London," she replied. "You will laugh," she added, "but I am really lost, for I don't know my way back to my friends' house."