"It _is_ you!" said the darling vision, and the next moment his hands--both hands--were warmly clasped by little white-gloved ones, and he was standing looking into the eyes of the Girl. "I knew I should see you somewhere--this continent _is_ so tiny," she said. "Come right along and be introduced to Papa--that's him over there." "I--I can't," he answered, in an agony. "I--my pocket's been picked--" "Do tell!" said the Girl, laughing; "but Papa doesn't want tipping--he's got all he wants--come right along." "I can't," he said, hoarse with the misery of the degrading confession; "it wasn't my money--it was my _shoes_. I came up in boots, brown boots; distant suburb; train; my shoes were in my overcoat pocket--I meant to change in the cab. I must have dropped them or they were taken out. And here I am in these things." He looked down at his bright brown boots. "And all the shops are shut--and my whole future depends on my getting into that room within the next half-hour. But never mind! Why should _you_ bother?--Besides, what does it matter? I've seen you again. You'll speak to me as you come back? I'll wait all night for a word." "Don't be so silly," said the Girl; but she smiled very prettily, and her dear eyes sparkled. "If it's _really_ important, I'll fix it for you! But why does your future depend on it, and all that?" "I have to meet a lady," said the wretched young man. "The one you were with at the masked ball? The nun? Yes--I made Papa take me. _Is_ it that one?" Her tone was imperious, but it was anxious too. He looked imploringly at her. "Yes, but--" "You shall have the shoes, all the same," she interrupted, and turned away before he could add a word. A moment later the grey-bearded gentleman was bowing to him. "My girl tells me you're in a corner for want of shoes, Sir. Mine are at your service--we seem about of a size--we can change behind that pillar." "But," stammered the young man, "it's too much--I can't--" "It's nothing at all, Sir," said the man with the grey beard warmly; "nothing compared to the way you stood by my girl! Shake! John B. Warner don't forget." "I can't thank you," said the other, when they had shaken hands. "If you will--just for a short time! I'll be back in half an hour--"