"Why do you wish to know?"
"Well, I saw that you looked ill, or that you were in fear of something, and I wished to be of service if possible."
She laughed bitterly. "Is that all? Well, I'll answer your question. I'm not running away from the police, but from my stepmother and father. I don't mind telling you," she went on in tones of reckless despair, "I don't see what harm it will do me, or what good it will do you."
"Running away from home!"
"Yes! for good."
"But where are you going?"
"Going—I don't know—to the casual ward I suppose—if—if I can get there."
Mary felt a strange faintness stealing over her, and the young man noticed it.
"You are ill—let me put you into a cab."
"No thank you," she replied decidedly.