"Hunted! by whom?" asked the barrister, becoming rather suspicious that his new friend might prove to be a runaway pickpocket, or something else bad--"by whom?" She seemed only then to call her faculties together, to realise that she was talking to, nay, confiding in, a stranger. Her cold collected look returned to her, and it must be confessed that she did not appear nearly as pretty as with her late timid expression. "Why do you wish to know?" "Well, I saw that you looked ill, or that you were in fear of something, and I wished to be of service if possible." She laughed bitterly. "Is that all? Well, I'll answer your question. I'm not running away from the police, but from my stepmother and father. I don't mind telling you," she went on in tones of reckless despair, "I don't see what harm it will do me, or what good it will do you." "Running away from home!" "Yes! for good." "But where are you going?" "Going--I don't know--to the casual ward I suppose--if--if I can get there." Mary felt a strange faintness stealing over her, and the young man noticed it. "You are ill--let me put you into a cab." "No thank you," she replied decidedly. "I live close here," he went on--"in the Temple. I wish you would allow me to take you to my rooms--you seem faint--a rest for a little while and a cup of tea will do you good. Now do let me persuade you." He paused and their eyes met. "No, you need not be afraid of me," he said, translating her look. She was looking at him, earnestly into him, and she read his character. She saw that she need not fear him--that is so long as she took proper care of herself. There was nothing violent or really wicked in the merry, careless, rather weak face. This was not the old man of the Park. She could distinguish that there were generous feelings in this young man as well as self-indulgence. She smiled as she thought how shrewd she was getting at character-reading, what a lot she had learned of the world in one day. "Why do you laugh?" he asked. "At my thoughts?" "Well I am glad that they are merrier than they were just now." "I was thinking how well I can read your character. I saw that I need not fear you much. I can trust you." This was a very dangerous admission for a young girl to make to a young man; but Mary, clever though she was, could hardly be expected to know exactly how to behave under such novel circumstances. "I am delighted to hear you say so," replied Hudson excitedly. "Now take my arm and we will go to my rooms. You want somebody to take care of you, my poor little girl."