"Do come," she urged.
"Let's walk," she said. "What's the matter? Where's young Temple? Don't tell me he's like all the others."
"He meant to be kind," said Betty, "but he asked a lot of questions, and I don't want to know him. I like you better. Isn't there anywhere we can be quiet, and talk? I'm all alone here in Paris, and I do want help. And I'd rather you'd help me than anyone else. Can't I come home with you?"
"No you can't."
"Well then, will you come with me?—not to the hotel he told me of, but to some other—you must know of one."
"What will you do if I don't?"
"I don't know," said Betty very forlornly, "but you will, won't you. You don't know how tired I am. Come with me, and then in the morning we can talk. Do—do."
The other woman took some thirty or forty steps in silence. Then she asked abruptly:
"Have you plenty of money?"
"Yes, lots."