“I choose not to take a car,” replied the girl, warmly, “and you have no right to accompany me against my wish.” Dr. Armstrong raised his hat. “I beg your pardon. I did not realize that my presence was not desired,” he said. Angry at both herself and him, Constance merely bowed, and walked on. “I don’t see why men have to torment me so,” she thought, as she hurried along. “His face was really interesting, and if he only wouldn’t begin like—He never would have behaved so if—if I weren’t—” Miss Durant checked even her thoughts from the word “beautiful,” and allowed the words “well dressed” to explain her magnetism to the other sex. Then, as if to salve her conscience of her own hypocrisy, she added, “It really is an advantage to a girl, if she doesn’t want to be bothered by men, to be born plain.” The truth of her thought was brought home to her with unexpected suddenness, for as she passed a strip of sidewalk made light by the glare from a saloon brilliant with gas, a man just coming out of its door stared boldly, and then joined her. “Ahem!” he said. The girl quickened her pace, but the intruder only lengthened his. “Cold night, isn’t it, darling?” he remarked, and tried to take her arm. Constance shrank away from the familiarity with a loathing and fear which, as her persecutor followed, drove her to the curb. “How dare you?” she burst out, finding he was not to be avoided. “Now don’t be silly, and—” There the sentence ended, for the man was jerked backwards by the collar, and then shot forward, with a shove, full length into the gutter. “I feared you would need assistance, Miss Durant, and so took the liberty of following you at a distance,” explained Dr. Armstrong, as the cur picked himself up and slunk away. “You are very— Thank you deeply for your kindness, Dr. Armstrong,” gasped the girl, her voice trembling. “I ought to have been guided by your advice and taken the car, but the truth is, I suddenly remembered - that is, I happened to be without any money, and was ashamed to ask you for a loan. Now, if you’ll lend me five cents, I shall be most grateful.” “It is said to be a feminine trait never to think of contingencies,” remarked the doctor, “and I think, Miss Durant, that your suggested five cents has a tendency in that direction. I will walk with you to Lexington Avenue, which is now your nearest line, and if you still persist then in refusing my escort, I shall insist that you become my debtor for at least a dollar.” “I really need not take you any further than the car, thank you, Dr. Armstrong, for I can get a cab at Twenty-third Street.”