"Nini and her German swine were beginning to be amiable," said the woman in an aside which Betty did not hear. "For Christ's sake take the child away, and put her safely for the night somewhere, if you have to ring up a Mother Superior or a Governesses' Aid Society." "Right. I will." He turned to Betty. "Will you allow me," he said, "to find a carriage for you, and see you to a hotel?" "Thank you," said Betty. He went out to the curbstone and scanned the road for a passing carriage. "Look here," said the black-browed woman, turning suddenly on Betty; "I daresay you'll think it's not my place to speak--oh, if you don't think so you will some day, when you're grown up,--but look here. I'm not chaffing. It's deadly earnest. You be good. See? There's nothing else that's any good really." "Yes," said Betty, "I know. If you're not good you won't be happy." "There you go," the other answered almost fiercely; "it's always the way. Everyone says it--copybooks and Bible and everything--and no one believes it till they've tried the other way, and then it's no use believing anything." "Oh, yes, it is," said Betty comfortingly, "and you're so kind. I don't know how to thank you. Being kind _is_ being good too, isn't it?" "Well, you aren't always a devil, even if you are in hell. I wish I could make you understand all the things I didn't understand when I was like you. But nobody can. That's part of the hell. And you don't even understand half I'm saying." "I think I do," said Betty. "Keep straight," the other said earnestly; "never mind how dull it is. I used to think it must be dull in Heaven. God knows it's dull in the other place! Look, he's got a carriage. You can trust him just for once, but as a rule I'd say 'Don't you trust any of them--they're all of a piece.' Good-bye; you're a nice little thing." "Good-bye," said Betty; "oh, good-bye! You _are_ kind, and good! People can't all be good the same way," she added, vaguely and seeking to comfort. "Women can," said the other, "don't you make any mistake. Good-bye." She watched the carriage drive away, and turned to meet the spiteful chaff of Nini and her German friends. "Now," said Mr. Temple, as soon as the wheels began to revolve, "perhaps you will tell me how you come to be out in Paris alone at this hour." Betty stared at him coldly. "I shall be greatly obliged if you can recommend me a good hotel," she said. "I don't even know your name," said he. "No," she answered briefly. "I cannot advise you unless you will trust me a little," he said gently. "You are very kind,--but I have not yet asked for anyone's advice." "I am sorry if I have offended you," he said, "but I only wish to be of service to you." [Illustration: "She stared at him coldly"] "Thank you very much," said Betty: "the only service I want is the name of a good hotel." "You are unwise to refuse my help," he said. "The place where I found you shews that you are not to be trusted about alone."