"I hate him!" she told herself passionately. "If he knew who I was he would not dare call me 'Jane,' and smile at me in that insufferably familiar way. It is only because I am a _servant_. Oh, I _hate_ him!" Her little hands clenched themselves till the nails almost pierced the tender palms, whereon divers hardened spots told of unaccustomed toil. It was not an auspicious moment for John Everett to approach and utter a commonplace remark about a passing steamer. Nevertheless he did it, being anxious in his blundering masculine way to cheer this forlorn little exile, who he felt sure was in dire need of human sympathy. Jane made no sort of reply, and after a doubtful pause he ventured to seat himself at her side. "That white tower on the farther side of the bay is one of the features of 'Dreamland,'" he observed. "At night one can see it for a long distance sparkling with electric lights." Still no answer. He studied the girl's delicate profile in silence for a minute. "Wouldn't you like to see it sometime, Jane?" he asked. She turned upon him suddenly. "How--how _dare_ you--call me 'Jane,' and--and-- Oh, I _hate_ you!" Her kindling eyes scorched him for an instant, then before he could collect his scattered senses she burst into wild sobbing. "You wouldn't dare treat me so if I was at--at home," she went on between her sobs; "but you think because I am all alone here and--and working for wages that you--can amuse yourself with me. Oh, I wish you would go away and never speak to me again!" His face had paled slowly. "I don't even know your name," he said quietly. "But I assure you, Miss--Jane, it has been very far from my mind to annoy you, or to----" He stopped short and looked at her fixedly. "I must put myself right with you, Jane," he said at last. "You must listen to me." Her low weeping suddenly ceased, and she lifted her proud little face all wet with angry tears to his. "I will listen," she said haughtily. "I am afraid I don't altogether understand what you mean to accuse me of," he said, choosing his words carefully; "but I will tell you just why I have tried to make friends with you. I will admit that men in my station do not as a rule make friends with servant maids." He said this firmly and watched her wince under the words. "But, Jane, you are not at all like an ordinary servant. I saw that the first time I met you. I fancied that you had, somehow, stumbled out of your right place in the world, and I thought--very foolishly, no doubt--that I might help you to get back to it." Jane's eyes kindled. "I can help myself to get back to it," she murmured, "and I will!" "That is why I wished to help you," he went on, without paying heed to her interruption, "and I will confess to you that I came down here this afternoon on purpose to have a talk with you. I meant--" he paused to search her face gravely. "I meant to ask you to allow me to send you home to England." "Oh, no--_no_!" she protested.