"It serves me right," she said in excellent, yet unfamiliar, English. "I don't understand a single word you say! I might have known I couldn't do it, though it's just what girls in books would do. It would have turned out all right with them. Let me go--thank you very much. I am sure you meant to be kind." And then she began to cry again. "Look here," he said, "this is all nonsense, you know. You are tired out--and there's something wrong. What is it? Do drink this, and then tell me. Perhaps I can help you." She drank obediently. Then she said: "I have not had anything to eat since last night--" He hurriedly cut cake and pressed it upon her. He had no time to think, but he was aware that this was the most exciting adventure that had ever happened to him. "It's no use--and it all sounds so silly." "Ah--but do tell me!" His voice was kinder than he meant it to be. Her eyes filled again with tears. "You don't know how horrid everyone has been. Oh--I never knew before what devils people are to you when you're poor--" "Is it only that you're poor? Why, that's nothing. I'm poor, too." She laughed. "I'm _not_ poor--not really." "What is it, then? You've quarrelled with your friends, and--Ah, tell me--and let me try to help you." "You _are_ kind--but--Well, then--it's like this. My father brought me to England from the States a month ago: he's 'made his pile': it was in pork, and I always wish he'd made it of something else, even canned fruit would be better, but that doesn't matter--We didn't know anyone here, of course, and directly we got here, he was wired for--business--and he had to go home again." "But surely he didn't leave you without money." Her little foot tapped the gravel impatiently. "I'm coming to that," she said. "Of course he didn't. He told me to stay on at the hotel, and I did--and then one night when I was at the theatre my maid--a horrid French thing we got in Paris--packed up all my trunks and took all my money, and paid the bill, and went. The hotel folks let her go--I can't think how people can be so silly. But they wouldn't let me stay, and I wired to papa--and there was no answer, and I don't know whatever's the matter with him. I know it all sounds as if I was making it up as I go along--" She stopped short, and looked at him through the dusk. He did not speak, but whatever she saw in his face it satisfied her. She said again: "You _are_ kind." "Go on," he said, "tell me all about it."