It was still unreasoning fear, but fear in which there was another kind of prompting, which made her wheel suddenly and walk back towards him. She noticed that as she did so, he stopped, wavered, but came on again.
Before the obscurity allowed of her seeing what type of man he was she cried out, with a half sob:
“Oh, mister, I’m so afraid! I wish you’d help me.”
“Sure!” The tone had the cheery fraternal ring of commonplace sincerity. “That’s what I turned round for. I says, that girl’s lost, I says. There’s places down here that’s dangerous, and she don’t know where she is.”
Hysterical fear became hysterical relief. “And you’re not going to murder me?”
“Gee! Me? What’d I murder you for? I’m a plumber.”
His tone making it seem impossible for a plumber to murder anyone she panted now from a sense of reassurance and security. She could see too that he 276 was a decent looking young fellow in overalls, off on an early job.
“Where you goin’ anyhow?” he asked, in kindly interest. “The minute I see you on the other side of the street, I says Gosh, I says! That girl’s got to be watched, I says. She don’t know that these streets down by the docks is dangerous.”
She explained that she was on her way to Red Point, Long Island, and that having only fifty cents she was sparing of her money.
“Gee! I wouldn’t be so economical if it was me. That ain’t the only fifty cents in the world. Look-a-here! I’ve got a dollar. You must take that––”