He had noticed her because of the contrast that her white face and small body made with her grand untidy clothes, but, looking at her more closely, he saw something about her that stirred all his sympathy and protection. Like most Englishmen he was at heart an eager sentimentalist and he was, just now, in a mood that responded instantly to anyone in distress. He forgot for the moment his desperate plans of self-destruction. A fat red-faced man came from the bar towards her, with two drinks; he was himself very unsteady and uncertain in his movements and his smile was both vacuous and full of purpose. He lurched towards her, put his hand upon her shoulder to steady himself, then, as one of the glasses spilled, cursed. She refused the drink, but he continued to press it upon her. His fat hand wandered about her neck, stroked her chin, and he was leaning now so that his face almost touched hers. Breton heard him say-- "Well, if you won't drink--damme--come along, my dear--let's be goin'." She shook her head, her eyes growing larger and larger. "Nonshensh," he said. "Darn nonshensh." She glanced about her desperately, but no one, save Breton, was watching them. She caught his eyes, pitifully, eagerly. The man put his arm about her and tried to draw her from the wall. "Come," he said. "We'll go home." She drew away. He pulled at her hand. "Damn the O----Place. Wash the matter? You got to come." Then he seized her by the arm, and, still lurching from side to side, began to move away. "No, no," she whispered, obviously terrified of a scene, but using all her strength to resist. Her eyes again met Breton's. "That lady," he said, advancing to the stout gentleman, "is a friend of mine." The man looked at him with an expression astonished, simply and rather puzzled. "Wash--wash...?" he said. "You'll be so good as to leave that lady alone." "Well, I'm b----well damned. Oh! gosh." The stout gentleman contemplated him with furious amazement. "'Oo the b----'ell I'd like to know? Get out or I'll kick yer out." The quarrel had by now gathered its crowd. The stout gentleman, lurching forward, aimed a blow at Breton which missed him. "Let her alone, do you hear?" cried Breton. The stout gentleman, amazed, apparently, at a world that defied all the probabilities, turned, caught the girl by the body and, dragging her with him, pushed past his opponent. Breton seized him by the waist, turned him round so that, with a little puzzled gasp, he half fell, half sat upon the cushioned seat against the wall. Then Breton offered the girl his arm and walked away with her, conscious that an attendant had arrived rather late upon the scene and was now abusing the stout gentleman, whilst a sympathetic little crowd listened and advised. He walked down the stairs with the girl. "That _was_ decent of you," she said. "Most awfully----" Beyond the doors the world was a hissing, spurting deluge of rain. A cab was called and she climbed into it.