He shrugged his shoulders. He had not given a thought to that yet. It was the loss of his friend that wrung his heart. "You are so gentle and sympathetic. Why is it that no woman has loved you?" "Perhaps because I've not found a woman I could love," said he. She did not pursue the subject, but sighed and looked somewhat drearily in front of her. It was then that he became aware of the cruel treatment that the years had inflicted on her youth. He knew that she was under thirty, yet she looked older. The colour had gone from her olive skin, leaving it sallow; her cheeks were drawn; haggard lines appeared beneath her eyes; her cheekbones and chin were prominent. It struck him that she might be fighting a hard battle against poverty. She looked underfed. He asked her. "Have you an engagement here in Avignon?" She shook her head. No, she was resting. "How long have you been out?" She couldn't tell. Many weeks. And prospects for the immediate future? The Tournée Tardieu was coming next Monday to Avignon. She knew the manager. Possibly he would give her a short engagement. "And if he doesn't?" "I will arrange," said Elodie with a show of bravery. Andrew frowned again, and his mild blue eyes narrowed keenly. He stretched out his arm and put his delicate fingers on her hand. "You have given me your help and sympathy. Do you refuse mine? Why does your pride forbid you to tell me that you are in great distress?" "What would be the good?" she replied with averted face. "How could you help me? Money? Oh no. I would sooner fling myself in the river." "You're talking foolishness," said he. "You know that you are in debt for your little room, and that the _propriétaire_ won't let you stay much longer. You know that you have not sufficient food. You know that you have had nothing to-day but a bit of bread and a cup of coffee, if you have had that. Confess!" The corners of her mouth worked pathetically. In spite of heroic effort, a sob came into her throat and tears into her eyes. Then she broke down and wept wretchedly. Yes, it was true. She had but a few sous in the world. No other clothes but those she wore. Oh, she was ashamed, ashamed that he should guess. If she had not been weak, he would have gone away and never have known. And so on, and so forth. The situation was plain as day to Andrew. Elodie, if not his guardian angel, at any rate his mascot, was down and out. While she was crying, he slipped, unperceived, a hundred-franc note into the side pocket of her jacket. At all events she should have a roof over her head and food to eat for the next few days, until he could devise some plan for her future welfare. Her future welfare! For all his generous impulses, it gave him cause for cold thought. How the deuce could a wandering, even though successful, young mountebank assure the future of a forlorn and untalented young woman?