A look curiously like tenderness swam into the girl's eyes. The beggar moved sideways upon his crutches.
"If you want to go," he said, "the way's open."
"Can I really go if I want to, and not come back?"
"You really can," he said. "Most things that I want I take, but a man can't take help and comfort unless they are freely given."
She moved slowly forward as if to discover the truth of his statement that the way was open. He made not the least gesture of interference. When she was between him and the outer door and rather nearer the latter, she turned about sharply.
"What's troubling you?" she asked.
"The fact," he said, and there was a something really charming in the expression of his mouth and eyes, "that though I can give orders to very many people, and be obeyed as a general is obeyed by his soldiers in war times, I have no friend. Fear attracts this person to me, self-interest attracts that person, but there's no one that's held to me by friendship."
"You're only asking me to be your friend?"
"You will be as safe in my house as in the rooms of the Gerry Society."
"If you want me for a friend why did you call me muck just now?"