Having set the chairs to table, and placed the wine and glasses at hand, the man announced respectfully that supper was served. His master dismissed him, guessing that the girl would be less embarrassed if alone with him; and Norgate retired with a face as expressionless as if the entertaining of "street waifs"--as he mentally termed the young visitor--were of nightly occurrence.
Adrien placed a plate of cold chicken on a low table beside her.
"You are warm there," he said, as he poured her out a glass of wine.
The girl looked up into his face with a mute, questioning glance; then, taking courage from the kindly eyes, she picked up her knife and fork with long, thin, but well-shaped hands.
Leroy turned to the table, and by dint of helping himself from various dishes, under a pretence of making a hearty meal, he gave her confidence; and presently he saw that she had commenced to eat. Adrien rose from time to time, and waited on her with a delicacy and tenderness with which few of his friends would have credited him; till, with a sigh of content, she laid down the knife and fork.
"Are you better now?" he asked as he took her plate.
She looked up at him in speechless adoration, and her eyes filled with tears.
"How good you are to me," she said. "I never dreamt there could be such a beautiful place as this. Do you often bring people in out of the cold?"
His face became grave.
"No," he said evasively--"not as often as I should, I'm afraid. And now, suppose you tell me your name."