“I didn’t ask to be let in. I guess some of them thought, because I happen to own a share in a gold mine, I might be good picking. But you are right. I shan’t rob them any more. Anything else on your mind?” “No. You are a pretty reasonable sort of devil, after all, Phil. Are you going? Well, so long.” Gaining the street level, the reasonable devil refilled his pipe, lighted it, and set off briskly townward. A square short of Larimer Street he turned to the left past the house where he had once spent a drunkenly unconscious night and went on to another of the same character in the square beyond. The woman who admitted him in answer to his double knock was of the type of her class: large, shapeless, hard-eyed, painted and garishly bejeweled. “Mother Goguette” was the name she went by, but there was little that was motherly about her. Philip slipped out of his light overcoat and hung it and his hat upon the hall rack as one who knew what was expected of him. “Reddick, the railroad man, tells me you took in a new girl this evening,” he announced brusquely. “She is the one I want to see.” “And a lotta good it’ll do you!” was the snapped out reply. “The little fool’s up in her room, cryin’ her eyes out and tryin’ to make me believe she didn’t know where she was comin’ to! She’s no fit comp’ny for a gentleman like you. What she needs is somebody that’ll knock a little sense into her.” Philip felt in his pocket and put a gold coin into the bejeweled hands. “I’ll take a chance,” he said. “Which is her room?” “First one to the right at the head o’ the stairs. You’ll hear her snifflin’, most likely. Sure you wouldn’t rather see one of the other girls?” “Quite sure,” said Philip, and he ran up the carpeted stair. On the upper landing he had no difficulty in finding the right door. It opened into a room lighted by a single singing gas jet. Lying face downward on the bed was a girl, “little” only by comparison with the gross-bodied woman down-stairs who had used the word. He had a glimpse of a swollen, tear-stained face, the face of a frightened animal, lifted at the moment of his entrance, only to be buried in the pillows again when she saw him. He closed the door noiselessly and drew up a chair. “You needn’t be afraid of me,” he began. “I haven’t come here to make things worse for you. I’m here to help you, if you want to be helped.” The girl turned her face to the wall and sobbed afresh. “You’re lying to me--everybody’s lied to me. _She_ sent you up--I know she did!” “No,” he denied gently; “I came because I knew you were needing a friend--a real friend, I mean. Don’t be afraid of me. Sit up here and tell me about it.”