Garrison looked at her as fixedly as she was looking at him.
Her recital of her needs had brought to the surface a phase of desperation in her bearing that wrought upon him potently, he knew not why.
"I think I understand your requirements, as far as one can in the circumstances," he answered. "I hardly believe I have the ability to engage such a person as you need for such a mission. I informed you at the start that my acquaintance with New York men is exceedingly narrow. I cannot think of anyone I could honestly recommend."
"But don't you know any honorable young gentleman—like some college man, perhaps—here in New York, looking for employment; someone who might be glad to earn, say, five hundred dollars?" she insisted. "Surely if you only know a few, there must be one among them."
Garrison sat back in his chair and took hold of his smooth-shaved lip with his thumb and finger. He reviewed his few New York experiences rapidly.
"No," he repeated. "I know of no such man. I am sorry."
His visitor looked at him with a new, flashing light in her eyes.
"Not one?" she said, significantly. "Not one young college man?"
He was unsuspicious of her meaning.
"Not one."