“What made you ask me?”
“Because you looked so nice,” she said simply. “A long stream of people went past me, and at first they confused me very much; then I began looking at faces. I looked for a long time, and yours was the first I could trust. If you would take me with you I would not give you more trouble than I could help and I would do everything I was told. I—I believe there is some money in the bag I have here.”
“That is not a very important point,” I said.
“I don’t know. I think I must have money. I think I must always have had it. I have been looking at my clothes, and they seem to me to be very good.”
“So they are,” I said.
She smiled faintly. “It seems so queer to be talking to a stranger like this; only you see I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how I came here or where I am to go.”
I liked the girl. “At present,” I said, “you will come with me to my flat and have some luncheon. If your memory doesn’t come back then you can stay there for the present. I have a spare room, and will make you quite comfortable. I live alone. Then to-morrow, if your memory has not returned, we can talk about it and decide what is best to do. You must have friends. They will almost certainly advertise for you.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much. I feel quite safe now that I have met you. A few moments ago I was frightened out of my life. How long will it take us to walk to your flat?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “and in all probability I never shall.” I stopped a four-wheeler that was crawling past us. The girl was obviously too tired and ill to walk. “Won’t you get in?” I said.
She got in and leaned back. “I feel utterly worn out,” she said. “I shall have to wait a little before I can tell you how much I thank you.”