But surely you can borrow money? Can't you ask your friend to forward you the amount of your fare?"
She shook her head.
"Susy ain't well off; she couldn't raise five dollars, and it costs twenty-five to get back to Hinksville. And besides, what would become of me while I waited for the money? They'll turn me out of here to-morrow; I haven't paid my last week's board, and I haven't got anything to give them; my bag's empty; I've pawned everything."
"And don't you know any one here who would lend you the money?"
"No; not a soul. At least I do know one gentleman; he's a friend of Arthur's, a Mr. Devine; he was staying at Rochester when we were there. I met him in the street the other day, and I didn't mean to speak to him, but he came up to me, and said he knew all about Arthur and how meanly he had behaved, and he wanted to know if he couldn't help me--I suppose he saw I was in trouble. He tried to persuade me to go and stay with his aunt, who has a lovely house right round here in Twenty-fourth Street; he must be very rich, for he offered to lend me as much money as I wanted."
"You didn't take it?"
"No," she returned; "I daresay he meant to be kind, but I didn't care to be beholden to any friend of Arthur's. He came here again yesterday, but I wouldn't see him, so he left a note giving me his aunt's address and saying she'd have a room ready for me at any time."
There was a long silence; she had dried her tears and sat looking at Woburn with eyes full of helpless reliance.
"Well," he said at length, "you did right not to take that man's money; but this isn't the only alternative," he added, pointing to the revolver.
"I don't know any other," she answered wearily. "I'm not smart enough to get employment; I can't make dresses or do type-writing, or any of the useful things they teach girls now; and besides, even if I could get work I couldn't stand the loneliness. I can never hold my head up again--I can't bear the disgrace. If I can't go back to Joe I'd rather be dead."
"And if you go back to Joe it will be all right?" Woburn suggested with a smile.
"Oh," she cried, her whole face alight, "if I could only go back to Joe!"
They were both silent again; Woburn sat with his hands in his pockets gazing at the floor. At length his silence seemed to rouse her to the unwontedness of the situation, and she rose from her seat, saying in a more constrained tone, "I don't know why I've told you all this."