I was growing bolder as she became more embarrassed. I looked down upon her now from my superior height, and my heart went out to worship the grace of God's handiwork. With a touch of resentment she drew herself up, held out her hand, and said somewhat proudly—
"I thank you, sir, for this service."
I took the hand, but not the hint. It was an infinitesimal hand as it lay in my big brown one, and yet it stung my frame as with some delicious and electric shock. My heart beat wildly and my eyes remained fixed upon hers.
The colour on the fair face deepened a shade: the little chin was raised a full inch, and the voice became perceptibly icy.
"I must go, sir. I hope I have thanked you as far as I can, and—"
"And what?"
"Forgive me that I was about to offer you money."
The hat's brim bent now, but under it I could see the honest eyes full of pain.
"Forgive you!" I cried. "Who am I to forgive you? You were right: I am no better than a beggar."
The red lips quivered and broke into a smile; a tiny dimple appeared, vanished and reappeared; the hat's brim nodded again, and then the eyes sparkled into laughter—