"Worn out mostly in other peoples' service," he nodded. "God bless them!" "They let the wet in horribly when it rains!" she sighed. "So heaven send us dry weather! Then there is your wonderful hair," he continued, "so long and soft and--" "And all bunched up anyhow!" said she, touching the heavy, shining braids with tentative fingers. "Please don't say any more, Mr. Geoffrey, because I just know I look a sight--I feel it! And in this old gown too--it's the one I keep to scrub the floors in--" "Scrub the floors?" he repeated. "Why, of course, floors must be scrubbed, and I've had plenty--oh, plenty of experience--now what are you thinking?" "That a great many women might envy you that gown for the beauty that goes with it. You are very beautiful, you know, Hermione." "And beauty in a woman is--everything, isn't it?" she said a little bitterly and with head suddenly averted. "Have I offended you?" "No," she answered without looking around, "only sometimes you are so very--personal." "Because the First and Second Persons Singular Number are the most interesting persons in the world, and--Hermione, in all this big world there is only one person I want. Could you ever learn to love a peanut man?" "That would all depend--on the peanut man," she answered softly, "and you--you don't talk or act a little bit like a real peanut man." "Well, could you stoop to love this peanut man just as he is, with all his faults and failures, love him enough to trust yourself to his keeping, to follow him into the unknown, to help him find that Beautiful City of Perhaps--could you, Hermione?" As he ended he rose to his feet, but swiftly, dexterously, she eluded him. "Wait!" she pleaded, facing him across the table, "I--I want to talk to you--to ask you some questions, and I want you to be serious, please." "Solemn as sixty judges!" he nodded. "Well, first, Mr. Geoffrey--why do you pretend to sell peanuts?" "Pretend!" he repeated, trying to sound aggrieved. "Oh, I'm not blind, Mr. Geoffrey." "No, indeed--I think your eyes are the most beau--" "Oh, please, please be serious!" "As a dozen owls!" "I--I know," she went on quickly, "I'm sure you haven't always had to live in such--such places as Mulligan's. I know you don't belong here as I do. Is it necessity has driven you to live here or only--curiosity?" "Well--er--perhaps a little of both," he admitted. "Then you're not obliged to sell peanuts for a living?" "'Obliged' is scarcely the word, perhaps; let us call it a peanut penchant, a hobby, a--" "You are not quite so--poverty-stricken as you pretend?" Her voice was very soft and gentle, but she kept her head averted, also her foot was tapping nervously in its worn shoe. "Oh, as to money," he answered, "I have enough for my simple needs, but in every other sense I am a miserable pauper. You see, there are some things no money can buy, and they are generally the best things of life."