She was not rebuffed, but for a second she studied his face with an even sharper glance, in which there was the least glint of suspicion. "You mean me," she said. "I live across the hall with my father. When I'm at work I'm a maid in swell families--sometimes a nurse girl. Nothing queer about that." "No--o," he said hesitatingly. She returned to the attack. "What do you do?" "I'm looking for work." "What have you worked at?" The directness with which she moved at what interested her might have amused David had that directness not been searching for what he desired for the present to conceal. "I only came to New York yesterday," he said evasively. "But you've been in New York before?" "Not for several years." She was getting too close. "I'm a very stupid subject for talk," he said quickly. "Now you--you must have had some very interesting experiences in the homes of the rich. You saw the rich from the inside. Tell me about them." She was not swerved an instant from her point. "You're very interesting. The first minute I saw you I spotted you for a queer one to be living in a place like this. What've you been doing since you were in New York before?" David could not hold back a flush; no evasive reply was waiting at his lips. Several seconds passed. "Pardon me, but don't you think you're a little too curious?" he said with an effort. Her penetrating eyes had not left him. Now understanding flashed into her face. She emitted a low whistle. "So that's it, is it!" she exclaimed, her voice softer than it had been. "So you've been sent away, and just got out. And you're starting in to try the honesty game." There was no foiling her quick penetration. He nodded his head. He had wondered how the world would receive him. She was the first member of the free world he had met who had learned his prison record, and he waited, chokingly, her action. He expected her face to harden accusingly--expected her to rise, speak despisingly and march coldly out. "Well, you are up against it good and hard," she said slowly. There was sympathy in her voice. The sympathy startled him; he warmed to her. But straightway it entered his mind that she would hasten to spread her discovery, and to live in the house might then be to live amid insult. "You have committed burglary on my mind--you have stolen my secret," he said sharply. "Oh, but I'll never tell," she quickly returned. And David, looking at her clear face, found himself believing her. She tried with quick questions to break into his past, but he blocked her with silence. After a time she glanced at a watch upon her breast, rose and reached for the door-knob. But David sprang quickly forward. "Allow me," he said, and opened the door for her. The courtesy did not go unnoticed. "You must have been a real 'gun,' a regular high-flyer, in your good days," she whispered. "Why?" "Oh, your kind of manners don't grow on cheap crooks."